


Chasing the Trail

by ishte



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist (2003), F/M, Post Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-02-26
Updated: 2010-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 53,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1603331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishte/pseuds/ishte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward needs his mechanic in more ways than one. Might not need an M rating. But gets one just in case. Animeverse with CoS considered Canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Holiday Kickoff

**Author's Note:**

> The dating system I am using for this story looks completely backwards to me as I do all my dating largest to smallest. That means year first, month second, date last. I do this because that way my dated files all fall into order by date very neatly. So a file like this one, would be named 20070226 – CT01 The Holiday Kickoff.doc. In Chasing the Trail, the date is FMA Canon. So in Amestris, it’s 1919, December 5, even though the date reads 05.Dec.19.

**Date:** 05.Dec.19 - Friday  
 **Time:** 21:52  
 **Location:** Central City – Capitol Square Convention Hall – Councilman Harmon Long's Annual Holiday Kickoff Ball

"You are really just a honey-tongued devil, aren't you young man?" Mrs. Long hung on the arm of the former General as he walked her back to her seat. "If I were just 10 years younger, Chairman," she said her voice taking on a coquettish undertone, "and not so attached to my dear Harmon here," she added as her escort transferred her back to her husband's arm.

"I wouldn't stand a chance." Roy Mustang raised a teasing eyebrow. "And I would not presume," he added with a deferential nod to the older man who chuckled and patted his wife's hand indulgently. "I do want to remind you both of my own little holiday soirée in two weeks. I believe you should have the invitations already. Nothing so grand as yours of course," he added gesturing expansively with one hand. "But I'd be honored if you could both attend."

"Absolutely," Long answered. He raised the glass in his hand as if in salute. "First one since you took on the oversight of the new State Alchemy program isn't it? We're looking forwards to it."

Mustang raised his own glass. As he sipped, his glance went over Long's shoulder to catch sight of a younger man walking by. The blond, the elder of the Elric brothers looked a little unsteady as he pushed open the ballroom doors and walked out of sight into the hall.

"Alyssa," Mustang said, kissing her hand lightly. "Councilman, if you'll excuse me." He bowed to the couple, and handing his empty glass off to a server, headed in the same direction he'd seen the younger alchemist go.

"Fullmetal?" Roy kept his voice down, and pushed the door closed behind him to block out the music and noise of the ballroom. The blond alchemist definitely looked like he'd had enough. Mustang allowed himself a smirk at the younger man's condition. He slouched on a bench balancing the glass of whiskey in his good hand as it rested on his knee. His head was leaned back against the wall, his right glove off, and the cold steel of his bare automail hand was pressed against his forehead. "Edward…" Roy's initial amusement faded when he didn't get an answer the second time he spoke. He crossed the distance between them in four steps. It took a hand on the boy's shoulder to get his attention. Even then, the boy looked a little unfocussed. "Are you all right, Ed?"

Edward lowered his hand and blinked at Roy, his gold eyes clearing after a minute. "General Mustang?" He pulled himself up straighter. "Yeah, sorry…" He glanced around for a moment and seemed relieved that no one else was in the hall. "Was I asleep?"

Roy smirked for a moment. "Probably for hours. Are you really that bored Fullmetal?" The sarcasm was clearly lost on the younger man who stared at him in honest chagrin.

"I–"

Roy frowned at the younger man and interrupted before he could form what sounded suspiciously like an uncharacteristic apology. "I just saw you walk past, Fullmetal, not two minutes ago." He explained with a soft laugh. "If you dozed off, it couldn't have been for more than a few seconds."

"Oh." He blinked for a moment. "Eh… What time is it?"

Fullmetal didn't sound like himself at all. Granted, he was twenty now–almost twenty-one. The 14-year difference in their ages still caused the general to think of him as a boy at times, but the last three or four years that he'd been away had defined Edward. He'd grown up. The brash kid he had been was almost gone. He'd learned to govern his temper. It was still there, undoubtedly, just let Roy push the right button, and it would flare, but Edward had learned how to avoid having his buttons pushed and had graduated at some point to real verbal sparring rather than the tantrums for which he had once been known. He could keep his thoughts guarded and meet Mustang's jibes and sarcasm on more equal ground now, which usually made their conversations more enjoyable. Though young, he had understood alchemic theory on an adult level since Roy had known him. A child prodigy, he had long been recognized as a genius in his field, but now he could debate the finer points without losing his composure, even when he couldn't make someone understand things as he did–things that to him were simple and obvious. That was evidenced by the fact that Edward Elric had chosen to teach at Central University.

Even though he was more mature, Roy thought Edward would always have his quick grin and sharp wit, and woe to those who couldn't keep up. At the moment even these seemed to be gone, and now he was resting his face in the cool metal of his hand again. "It's about ten. Where's Al?" Roy asked taking the glass out of Edward's hand and setting it aside. The younger man didn't protest. He hadn't seemed inclined to finish it, and it didn't look like he needed any more of it anyway.

"He went home an hour ago," Edward lifted his head waving his hand absently. "He was starting to overload, you know. Too many people." then he shrugged slightly. "It doesn't happen too often now, but when it does, it's difficult for him." Alphonse Elric had not remembered his four years attached to a suit of armor at first. Three years living without memory of the complete deprivation had spared him some of the sensory overload that might have otherwise occurred. Regaining those memories though had come at a price. Now Edward's brother sometimes became overwhelmed by too much input. Mustang knew that Edward considered this yet another sin on his part, another burden that he would carry for what he felt he had done to his brother. Never mind what he had done to himself. Edward's pain was nothing. His brother was everything to him. "I saw it starting to get to him," He wrung his hands in brief imitation of his brother under stress, "so I told him to go back home before it got any worse."

"I think it might be best if you head home now too." Roy felt magnanimous enough to spare Edward his dignity about drinking too much. He'd pay for it in the morning anyway. "You look pretty tired."

Edward dropped his hand again, staring at the floor for a moment. "Yeah, I guess I am." He glanced up at his old commander. "I didn't sleep well, to tell you the truth, but I didn't want people asking where I was later." Now he straightened and flashed that grin. "The premier holiday kickoff party of the year and all. Chairman Long was legendary even when I was a kid. Al and I were excited to be invited this year," he added seriously, before widening his grin to display his almost perfect teeth in mock arrogance. "Yup, and you know how people would talk if Fullmetal didn't…Ugh–" he cut himself off, the smile fading with his posture. " _Scheisse_ …" The oath had come back across the gate with him. Edward seemed to prefer it over the same word in his native language. Alphonse had once confided to Roy that it was because it allowed him two syllables to express his irritation rather than just one. The blond snorted softly. "Politics…" It seemed to Roy as if Edward were laughing at himself, his inner smart-ass not gone so much as suffering from too much drink induced laziness to complete the thought.

Mustang chuckled slightly. Well it happened. Edward might be an adult now, but to his knowledge he wasn't much of a drinker. It took time to learn limits, and this was no exception. "I'm sure everyone will be just devastated if you go at this point." Roy realized after he said it that his satire could be truth as well depending on how one looked at the situation. Fullmetal was pretty well liked by most of the people there. Though he was small, he'd always been a good-looking boy, and maturity had only enhanced that. His amber eyes, still capable of fire when he was provoked, now more often gave an impression of gentle concern to his features. There was a certain wistful quality now. Those who had known him as a teen knew where it came from. They had also seen his natural compassion, but now it was more obvious in his expressions. It amused Mustang to know that was what in large part the thing that drove the girls Edward's age crazy about him, even if Edward himself was completely oblivious of it.

Earlier he'd seen Edward dragged blushing and wide-eyed onto the dance floor by a group of tittering girls–one of them the daughter of a congressman. He grinned at the memory. Fullmetal had comported himself fairly well, though not expertly. He seemed to know most of the steps and the ones he didn't he learned quickly enough, but something had been off about his gait. It made him seem awkward, and after a while he had bowed out and headed towards the buffet table again. "Especially now that the band has finished with the dance sets," Mustang added lightly. "You know the background music is what everyone looks forward to all night."

Edward smiled slightly at the sarcasm, but didn't answer it.

"Even still, I'm sure the girls will be quite devastated to lose you," he added seriously.

That got a snort of derision. "Girls!" Edward rolled his eyes in a way that caused Roy to raise an eyebrow at him. His next statement raised the other one. "Yeah… Like I'm interested in those girls!"

"You're no fun," Roy snickered and stepped back a pace. "I'll have them bring your car around for you. I'll drive you home," he added pointedly.

"General," Edward reached out to stop him, but rather than catching the other man's arm, he only managed to brush his sleeve with his fingertips. "You don't have to do that. Al took the car anyway. I don't drive. I mean–" he corrected himself quickly, coloring slightly, "I can, more or less…but he says I shouldn't." Edward shrugged, looking resigned. "He's probably right to say it," he mumbled under his breath. Roy had heard about Edward's driving. Not too long after the brothers had found their way home again, Edward had bought a second hand car–a slick little red roadster. Apparently though, he was easily distracted and as likely to drive off the road as on it. Edward had wrecked the car three times in two months before he had handed his keys to Alphonse saying the car deserved to be treated better. In a moment the younger man brightened again. "Ah! We're inside the capitol gates." He shrugged. "I'd rather walk anyway. It's not that cold, and I could stand the fresh air.

"Hmm," Mustang studied the other man for a moment and came to a decision" Well, I think I'll go with you then." He held up a hand when Edward opened his mouth to protest. "Never mind that." he said authoritatively, "I didn't drive either. I came with Caroline."

"You and Caroline came together?" Edward's raised an eyebrow. "I thought you two hated each other now?"

"No," Mustang corrected, drawing out the word for emphasis. "We don't hate each other. We just don't want to date each other."

"I see…" Edward thought about it a minute. "I think…" another moment of thought. "Maybe I don't."

Mustang chuckled. "We're still friends and it was easier to come together since we'd already planned to. But we're not seeing each other any more."

"I get it!" Edward's mocking grin returned "So basically you're free to womanize all you want again!"

"I'm wounded!" Mustang mocked, laying a hand over his heart. "I don't have the looks I had back then anyway," he added touching the scars around his left eye. He'd worn the patch for nearly four years. Then he had finally gone for a last surgery to reconstruct the damaged bones around the orbit of his eye, and had a replacement eye made. It wasn't a perfect match. It was too black. He could see in the mirror that the iris of the artificial one failed to capture the vague hint of midnight in his natural eye.

Fullmetal had had a hand in Mustang's choice to finally replace his eye, though he probably didn't know it. The damage to his face had in some way felt like a penance for his failure to protect the two boys. Edward and Alphonse had had understood that pretty quickly once they had returned to Amestris for good, and Edward had given him an earful about who had the right to carry such burdens. Apparently Edward was the only one. He had ended that discussion by sticking his automail hand in Mustangs face. "Quit sulking and get it fixed Mustang!" he had opened and closed his metal fist several times as he shouted his parting shot. "You might note that I can put you in touch with a very good mechanic!" Ultimately Roy had opted for a simple glass replacement rather than trying for a functional artificial eye. He could let go of the patch, but somehow, he still wanted the reminders that his unseeing eye gave him.

Edward snorted. "Looks better than that damn patch." He shrugged lopsidedly and pointed at him with his left hand. "The scars aren't as bad as you think they are anyway. Your surgeon did a good job."

He supposed it was true. Certainly from Edward's point of view it was true. The younger man carried far worse scars where his arm and leg had been torn from him. "I think I'm a little old for all that 'womanizing' as you so eloquently put it," Mustang laughed amicably. "But just for your information, I may have dated plenty, but I never gave a girl reason to think she was exclusive unless she was. Anyway, I know Caroline's not ready to go, and I don't want to drag her away from her fun. This way I can escape too." He picked up Edward's drink, poured it out in the drinking fountain a few steps away and refilled it with water before handing it back. "Here. You'd better drink this while I make our excuses. Just give me five minutes, hmm?" He arched an eyebrow meaningfully, received a sour look in return and strode back into the ballroom.

Edward, he was soon reminded, could still be contrary, and hadn't gotten any better at following orders either. When Roy slipped through the ballroom doors into the hallway again, he discovered the glass of water, sitting untouched on the arm of the empty bench. His erstwhile subordinate he found near the entrance, holding both their overcoats. He seemed to be contemplating the action of his fingers, opening them rapidly one after another as if counting on them, and then closing them the same way in reverse increasing the speed each time he repeated the process. Roy had seen Edward doing this before, usually when he thought no one was looking or when he was lost in thought himself. It seemed to be a habit he had picked up on the other side of the gate.

Roy knew that the prosthetics Edward and Hohenheim had built had been made from the materials available to them in London and Munich, wherever that was. It had been more than four years now, since Edward had been killed by the homunculus, Envy. Alphonse had sacrificed himself for Edward's life. Edward, ever insisting that their troubles were his fault and thus his burden alone to carry, had refused to accept that choice, and had transmuted himself to undo it. Edward had rebuilt most of the connections between his flesh and automail himself inside the ether when the limbs Alphonse had just restored to him along with his life were retaken. It was the compromise he'd made–though it was more instinct than choice–in order to bring Alphonse–body mind and soul–back out into the world.

Unfortunately Edward had been thrown out the other side of the gate with both limbs missing, and sockets that were put together wholly from his own memory of how they had felt, and very little practical understanding about how they were actually supposed to work. Apparently Hohenheim had been able to repair the rest using his own knowledge, and then they had built new prosthetics to fit them. The end result may have been decades ahead of their time on that side of the gate, but they had been in many ways vastly inferior to what Edward was used to.

When he had returned to Munich through the gateway with Alphonse, Edward had taken his new automail with him. It should have been an improvement even with the ports as they were, except that Edward, ever diminutive for his age before his brother's restoration, had finally started growing. That meant his prosthetics could be in need of adjustment or replacement at any given time. When he and Alphonse had returned from the other side, Edward was still in the automail rather than lesser limbs, but his arm had been significantly damaged. His leg, he and Alphonse had adjusted for length as far as it would go and finally jury-rigged it at the shin to make it long enough, destroying much of its function in the process. He had been badly in need of replacements. Roy thought the habit had probably formed during that time, as Edward watched the slow deterioration of the function of his artificial limbs.

Edward clenched his hand into a fist with a soft grunt before he noticed Mustang approaching and looked up. Wordlessly he handed the General his coat, pulling his gloves back on before shrugging into his own. A discordant clank in the shoulder joint gained a soft gasp of pain and another grunt from Edward as he clutched it for a moment with his eyes squeezed shut.

"All right?" Mustang asked, casually reaching across and pulling Edward's coat the rest of the way over that shoulder while the blond was too distracted by the pain to notice the assistance.

"Yeah." He straightened to meet Mustang's eyes for a bare second before they headed outside. "It's the weather. Well… Mostly… In the old days this didn't usually happen to me," he said by way of a better explanation. "I almost always tore my arm up before anything wore out. But now I think one of the guide bars in there is fried. It's not responding right. I can feel it when I–" he demonstrated by running his fingers rapidly open and closed in sequence again, and then closed them in the same rapid succession. "Sometimes it pings like that. Makes the socket a bit sore."

"Sounds like fun," Roy's smirk was meant to relay acceptance of the explanation. He had a feeling it was more than just 'a bit sore'.

"Sure." Fullmetal snorted softly. "I especially enjoy the headaches when it does nothing but rain all day." Despite that, he seemed better able to maintain the easy exchange of sarcasm than he had been earlier. At least that was progress, but then Edward shuddered and rubbed at the shoulder again, as if any amount of rubbing the hard steel could stop the ache.

"You're limping too?"

Another snort. "Did you know a man towards the end of his main growth cycle can gain as much as twelve centimeters in height a year?"

"You better get to it then," Mustang remarked dryly. He was not particularly tall himself. Most of his staff had height on him, but unlike Edward, Roy had never been self-conscious about it. Maybe it was because Roy had not spent most of his life significantly smaller than other boys his age as Edward had. He just hadn't gotten as tall as some of his peers and that was fine with him. He carried his command through the presence of his own will. Over the years, he had teased the boy incessantly about his height. For one thing Edward made such good sport because his usual overreactions to the taunts were always so colorful. But Roy had also been pushing Edward to realize that it wasn't his size that mattered. After all, when Edward had come to Central, he had barely stood to Mustang's chest and over the subsequent years, he never seemed to grow more than a few centimeters taller, and often obsessed about it. "You don't have much time left."

"Ha…" Edward stopped walking for a moment, and straightened completely, one hand resting lightly on Roy's shoulder as if for balance. He flashed his teeth in a strong echo of that superior feral grin he had so often displayed as a kid.

"I'll be damned." He couldn't remember Edward ever standing higher than his chin, but now he was almost eye to eye with Roy. A slightly metallic tapping turned his attention to Edward's feet. The two-tone wingtips seemed almost out of character for Edward. They were black, and the burgundy insteps were so dark as to almost be black, but the colors were different enough to meet the style requirements for the semi-formal attire of the party. Edward could hardly be called a slave to fashion, but yet he'd had the sense to know what was expected, and yet managed to meet those expectations without losing his sense of self. If nothing else, the shoes were one of the small things that demonstrated how much Edward had grown up in recent years. No way would he have worn the dramatically different colors that were more common. Roy wondered where he had managed to find them. For a moment he was too distracted by the shoes to realize the point Edward was trying to make. He knew that wasn't what he was supposed to be seeing. Then he realized what was. Standing perfectly straight like that, Edward couldn't reach the ground with his left heel. All he could do was tap his toe. Well he hadn't grown twelve centimeters, but he'd definitely grown taller.

"Growing pains are something I'd only heard about; something little kids got." His laugh sounded more like a grunt. "I thought it was a metaphor." He slouched again, rubbing his shoulder where the steel met flesh. "Everything hurts–bones, flesh, and steel. This weather doesn't help," he grumped.

"I don't suppose it's occurred to you to call your mechanic yet."

"Oh no," Edward let his husky tenor rise in sharp sarcasm. "I thought I'd just wait until it broke down completely. You know, like I always do." He grinned for a moment. "That's what Winry thinks anyway." He laughed shortly. "She's been down in Rush Valley for the last two months. There was some kind of convention, and then a course she wanted on some new gizmos. You know how she is. She was supposed to be here next week, and then she plans to open up the shop officially after the New Year, but…" He shrugged. "Eh… Al called her. Her train is due the day after tomorrow." He shivered at this last statement.

Roy laughed at that, glad to see that the fresh air and walking seemed to be helping the younger man. Their path took them past a small park. They were fairly close to Mustang's house now. The next intersection after the park was where Roy normally would turn to get there.

Edward seemed to recognize the place too. "You don't have to walk me all the way home, General," he assured him.

"Roy."

"Eh?"

"I'm sure you know by now that my name is Roy." He smirked. They'd been through this before. Somehow, it struck his sense of humor that the first time Edward had ever called him, on his way to Central from Rezembool, Edward had accidentally called him by his first name on the phone, and now it was like pulling teeth. "You don't have to be so formal with me Edward. I'm not your direct superior any more, and we left the formal setting back there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "That rank is only honorary now. My friends don't use it."

"Friends…" Edward mulled over that for a while, then offered a grin that could have echoed one of Roy's. "Kind of weird though–you still call me Fullmetal, don't you?" Edward asked referring to his second name, the one given to each State Alchemist by the Fuehrer. Just as Roy had been named Flame, for his ability to create explosive flames by manipulating the composition of the air in a given area. All he needed was an ignition source, which was usually came from his special pyrotex gloves. A simple snap of his fingers and the ignition cloth would create the necessary spark.

"Did you forget that you liked your 'heavy name'?" Roy asked his tone mocking. They both knew that the name was a double entendre. It referred not only to the metal of Edward's automail limbs, and his expertise at manipulating the metals in materials, but also carried a connotation for being hardheaded. He suspected that was what Edward liked best about it. Even now, he was sometimes a bit prideful of his own stubbornness.

Edward snorted in acknowledgement. "Anyway you don't have to walk me home. I'm a big boy now."

Roy laughed, purposely raking a stare up and down Edward's slight frame. "Not very." He gibed.

Edward gave him a vicious snarl, but it was hardly worthy of his reputation given the bait offered.

"Besides," Roy added lightly, folding his arms over his chest, "you aren't the boss of me."

Edward snorted again. "As I recall, you're a public servant now, which technically means that everyone is the boss of you. Including me." He grinned broadly at that, but it only lasted a flash before his face went serious again. Roy thought he heard a quiet groan, and his companion's pace was definitely slowing, his expression tight.

"Seriously Edward," Roy said. "If you've had too much to drink, it's only right that I should make sure that you get home safely. Al wouldn't be happy with me if–"

"I haven't been drinking," Edward interrupted sullenly. "Is that what you thought, Roy?"

"Sorry?"

"You thought I was drunk?" Edward stopped walking and stared at him with some incredulity. "I thought you knew me better than that."

Roy's eyes widened. That stung. Maybe it was meant to. It surprised Roy to hear his own defensive response. "Every time I saw you, you had a drink in your hand, Ed."

"The same drink."

"Hm?" Roy arched an eyebrow.

"The same drink," Edward half growled staring at the ground. "Did you ever see me take a drink out of it? I told you, I didn't want to be rude. I didn't want to drink either, so I just picked up a glass of something, and carried it around with me all night. Some guy is probably wondering where his whiskey went. Trust me, I'm a lot more fun than this when I'm drunk."

"I see…" They walked on for another minute without talking, Edward's steps awkward, his arms crossed over his chest to keep out the cold. Another soft grunt caused Roy to glance over. "Fullmetal?"

"Eh…" The younger man didn't look up, but kept plodding along, hunched in his coat, his arms wrapped around himself as they approached the end of the park.

"You may not have been drinking, but you obviously aren't feeling well."

"No," Edward answered dully. "I'm not." He stopped again, "Sorry General, but my stomach is hurting."

Roy realized now that Edward wasn't clutching his coat so much as he was clutching at the discomfort. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, but…" Edward changed his mind, shaking his head. "No… I think I need to sit down for a minute. I don't feel too good."

"Hmm…" Roy glanced around and spotted a park bench a few steps away. "Come on," he tugged on the sleeve of Edward's coat and pointed. The other man followed, his pace unsteady enough that Roy took hold of his elbow halfway there.

 _"Scheisse!_ I'm freezing." Edward grumped as they sat down.

"I think it's gotten a little colder," Roy agreed, more concerned about Edward's pallor than the weather. "The rain has turned to snow."

"Mmm…" was all the acknowledgment he got. Edward had leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.

Roy sat back to give him some space. He pulled his own coat a little closer around himself, though it still didn't feel all that cold to him. Still now that they weren't moving, he guessed it might seem colder, and with Edward feeling ill, it probably effected him more. Automail could be more susceptible too, he remembered. "Coffee shop's still open," he observed. The café was usually closed by now. Roy was a regular customer since it was only a couple blocks from his own house, and he was fond of coffee. He guessed they were open late because of the holidays.

"Yeah," Edward lifted his head and sat up a little. He left one arm across his knees while he dug in his pocket with the other to pull out a handkerchief.

"You doing any better?" Roy asked him as Edward patted at his face.

"Maybe." He looked pale, though his cheeks were a little flushed. "My head's clearing, but I'm still sweating. My stomach's been off all day I think."

Roy couldn't help a chuckle. "You wouldn't have known it by your appetite, Fullmetal."

Edward half laughed in response. He closed his eyes, still blotting the moisture from his forehead. "Yeah… Bad habit I guess, ever since I was a kid. Sometimes when my stomach gets upset, I think I'm just hungry, so I just keep eating and eating, trying to settle it." He groaned softly. "I don't think it ever works." He rested his face in his hands again, and sighed. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Maybe something hot would settle you down a bit," Roy suggested laying a hand on Edward's shoulder. He didn't want to invade his space if he was feeling that bad, but at the same time he wanted to offer some sort of comfort. "I could go over and get some coffee–"

"No!" Edward cut him off. "Sorry," he added, moderating his tone. "Not coffee."

"Tea then," Roy offered, "or maybe hot cocoa–" He interrupted himself, realizing too late that given Edward's intense dislike of milk, that cocoa was probably one of the last things he should have suggested.

There was no mistaking the sound that tore out of Edward's throat at that moment. He jerked his head up, the handkerchief pressed to his mouth, looking desperately for a more appropriate place to deal with the problem as he lurched to his feet.

Roy's slight push directed him towards a garbage can a few yards into the park behind their bench. Edward stumbled over to it, his metal hand clanging against the lid as he knocked it off. Roy caught up with him, and with one hand pulled the blond ponytail back out of the way just as Edward braced his hands either side of the can and heaved into it. "Sorry, Ed. I wasn't thinking…"

Thankfully the circle of illumination from the gaslight by the bench didn't reach quite that far. Edward was anything but quiet. There could be no mistaking that he was quite sick, but he most likely wouldn't have to worry about being seen in such a state. Given the number of holiday kickoff parties happening over the weekend, passers by on the street would most likely assume that it was just someone who had drunk too much. They wouldn't be able to identify either of them in the darkness. Given the noise Edward was making, they were likely to avoid looking anyway.

Roy didn't have much choice in the matter. The other alchemist was shaking so badly before long, that Roy had to help him support himself while he continued to exert himself mightily. "Damn, Ed," he joked, during a moment's respite while Edward gasped for breath. "You don't do anything half-assed, do you? Could you possibly have eaten that much today?"

Edward didn't take the levity well. "Shut up Roy!" He practically shouted, "Can't you see I'm sick? I don't need your smart-ass–" a fresh bout of sickness interrupted him. By the time he finished he was too exhausted to say anything about the joke Roy had made at his expense.

Roy was all but holding him up, but after a minute Edward wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, straightened a little and took more of his own weight. Roy stepped back a little since the boy seemed steadier now, and let go of the long tail of Edward's gold colored hair. "Roy…" Edward cleared his throat. He sighed heavily before continuing. He kept his back to the older man. His tone was subdued. Roy thought he sounded embarrassed. "You got a clean hanky? I think I dropped mine."

Even if he hadn't dropped it, Roy knew that he'd probably soiled it, so he had already pulled his own out. He handed it to him. "Do you feel any better?"

"Kinda. Still a little shaky." Edward answered absently. He wiped his hands, and blew his nose. "Give me a minute and I think I'll be all right now." He coughed, cleared his throat, spat and blew his nose again before he turned around. He started to give Roy's handkerchief back, and thought better of it. "Ah… Let me wash it first." He suggested with a weak grin and put it in his own pocket.

"Right." Roy chuckled. "I appreciate that, Fullmetal."

Edward snorted his acknowledgement, and rubbed his forehead with his cold steel hand. "Sorry for yelling at you." He shrugged slightly.

"It's nothing… A badly timed joke on my part."

Another self-deprecating snort. "No, you were just trying to help me keep perspective, and as usual I didn't want to hear it."

"Do you need to sit for a few more minutes, or are you feeling well enough to keep going now?"

"I'd rather get moving. My stomach feels a little better." he sighed tiredly and started back towards the sidewalk. "Walking should help me get rid of the shakes."

They walked along in silence for a while. The sound of Edward's step was always different from one foot to the next because of the automail leg on the left side. It was heavier than the flesh leg, and there was a slight metallic clack when he shifted his weight onto it. Normally Roy didn't notice it unless he was paying specific attention. Tonight though, perhaps because Edward was already off balance, and not feeling well either, the difference was marked. Roy could hear him bang his heel down awkwardly, the soft susurration of the hydraulics trying to counterbalance the harder than normal impact, and the creak of metal parts. Edward, for his part, was quiet, but it was clear from his posture that he still felt terrible, and he seemed almost out of breath. His step was becoming more and more uneven, even erratic. Roy finally took a hold of the other man's elbow to try to help him get his balance back.

"Sorry," Edward mumbled rubbing his shoulder as he had earlier. "I'm not compensating right… the actuators for my toes keep firing at the wrong time." He his gait evened out a little. "I'll try to pay more attention."

"Ed–"

"I'm all right." He didn't sound convincing.

"Ed," Roy repeated. "We're much closer to my house than yours."

"No, it's ok General…" He stumbled slightly, his foot dragging.

Roy steadied him again but let go when Edward half yelped and pulled his arm free, rubbing at his shoulder. He reeled a few steps further and then straightened out again. "Ed, it might be better–"

"Maybe…" Every step looked like a terrible effort. Edward slammed his heel down too hard again, this time he grunted softly, rubbing his forehead with his metal hand, and his shoulder with the other as he dragged his natural foot forward another step. He was more winded now. The warm white mist visible evidence of every labored breath.

The younger man turned towards him. At first Roy thought he was about to say something else, but as Edward looked up at him, he continued to turn stumbling over his own feet. "I really need to lie down," Roy heard him mutter. His gaze continued skyward for a second before his eyes rolled back and his knees buckled, his legs twisting under him.


	2. Listen to the Doctor, Ed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Edward Elric and Roy Mustang leave a holiday kickoff party together. Roy believes Edward has had too much to drink, and thinks he's doing him a favor by making sure he gets home safely. He discovers that the problem isn't alcohol, it's that Edward is not well. After being quite sick, the younger man seems to be having real problems even walking, though he insists he's fine until his legs prove otherwise:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The younger man turned towards him. At first Roy thought he was about to say something else, but as Edward looked up at him, he continued to turn stumbling over his own feet. “I really need to lie down,” Roy heard him mutter. His gaze continued skyward for a second before his eyes rolled back and his knees buckled, his legs twisting under him._

**Date:** 05.Dec.19 - Friday  
 **Time:** 22:19  
 **Location:** Central City – Capital Square Residential Section near Capital Park

"Ed!" Roy grabbed for him, but his depth perception was poor, and Edward was falling away from him. He hit the pavement hard, a harsh grunt torn from him as he slammed down onto his side. "Damn it! Edward!" Roy dropped to one knee next to him and turned him over. He was rewarded with a pained groan from the younger man.

"What just happened?" Edward mumbled, trying to open his eyes. He reached up listlessly and tried to rub at his shoulder where the automail joined flesh.

"Keep still, Fullmetal. You fainted." He laid a bare hand on Edward's face. "My God, You're burning up."

"Mmm…" The gold eyes opened for a few seconds, blinked twice, and then closed again with a soft groan. "I need to go home."

Roy got his hands under the Edward's limp frame and lifted him. "My place is closer, Fullmetal." As far as he was concerned the discussion was over.

* * *

**Date:** 05.Dec.19 - Friday  
 **Time:** 23:38  
 **Location:** Central City – The home of General Roy Mustang, Chairman: National Board of Alchemy

The first thing of which Edward became fully aware was that he was lying on a surface much softer than the frozen sidewalk, which was the last place he clearly remembered being. The next was the sound of his younger brother's voice, lower than his own now, but softer. He was nearby. Close enough to touch him–reassure him–if he could just pull himself awake. "Can you help me undress him, Chairman Mustang? He's soaking with sweat, but I'm afraid of causing him more pain."

Then the General's voice, deeper and smoother. "Looks like he might be coming around."

"Brother?"

"What?" Edward dragged his eyes open and found he was looking into the worried face of his younger brother. A gentle hand was pressed to his forehead for a moment. "What happened?" He glanced around, confused. "Where the hell am I?" He tried to sit up, wincing at the stab of pain that shot through his shoulder and into his chest when he pressed back with his right arm. Alphonse caught him and lifted him for a moment to take the pressure off until he moved his arm out of the way, and then eased him back down onto soft pillows. That was when he realized he was in a bed, and Alphonse was kneeling on it next to him.

"Stay down a few minutes more, Brother."

Edward raised his left hand and rubbed his face while Alphonse worked on the buttons of his waistcoat. "What happened, Al?" He dropped his hand and looked around again. The room was lit with gaslights turned down low. It was decent sized, the heavy mahogany crown moldings Victorian, but not pretentious. The walls were cadet blue beneath the chair rails, and cream above them. The tall double windows were framed with heavy drapes a few shades darker than the blue used on the walls. "Where are we?" He tried to sit up to get a better look, but Alphonse's hand on his good shoulder stopped him again. He shivered and closed his eyes again trying to clear his aching head.

A door closed quietly, and a chair scraped on the other side of the bed from his brother. "You don't remember, Ed?" It was Mustang's voice. The cool hand on his forehead must be the General's now, for Alphonse was working on the buttons of his shirt.

Edward shook his head slightly. "No…" he started to say, "Well no… I remember the park, and then a little bit after that, but then it starts to get a little…" He opened his eyes when Mustang removed his hand and replaced it with a cool cloth. He heard as soft sigh, and realized it was his own. His eyes drifted closed. That cold cloth felt… It felt better than having Alphonse tugging the tails of his dress shirt loose. That much was certain. He opened his eyes and let them rest on Mustang while Alphonse continued to fuss with his clothes. "What happened then?"

"You passed out." Mustang told him. "You were only out cold for a second, but you were too disoriented to walk any further, so I brought you here. This is my house. Do you remember?"

"Yeah," Edward sighed and let his eyes close again. "Vaguely." He did remember being carried for a while, but it was disjointed. He seemed to remember demanding that he be put down at some point, but couldn't remember if he had been obliged. Some of the time he knew it was Roy carrying him, but sometimes he had though it was Alphonse, only not Alphonse as he was today, but the Alphonse he had trapped in a suit of armor for five years. He shivered violently.

Alphonse had been fiddling with the left cuff of his shirt. Edward wondered why the sigh his brother released sounded almost irritated.

"What?" Edward asked too tired to open his eyes and look for himself.

"You didn't have to do this, Brother."

"Mm?"

"What is it?" Roy asked.

Alphonse chuckled lightly. "It appears that he transmuted his cufflink. Edward, why didn't you just ask me to help you with it?

Edward sighed and dragged his eyes open to look at his brother and then at the General. "I don't want to be a nuisance unless it's on purpose." That at least got a giggle out of his brother. Anything to make him stop looking so worried. He closed his eyes again. He felt like he was drifting, his mind only marginally acknowledging the soft clap of his brother's hands, and the light of a small alchemic reaction nearby.

"Chairman," Alphonse's voice roused him from near sleep. "Can you help me please? I want to get him out of these damp clothes and into his pajamas before the doctor gets here."

"The doctor!?" Edward's eyes flew open, and he pushed himself upright this time, despite the pain it caused. He grunted, teeth bared and grabbed at the gut wrenching agony that seared through his shoulder. Roy caught him and kept him from falling back so Alphonse could strip off the damp shirt and waistcoat. Edward ignored that, busy separating himself from the shrieking torment. "Why the hell did you call the doctor at this hour?" He snapped at his brother. "You know those damn pain pills make me woozy sometimes." He couldn't stand the tolerant look his brother gave him, so he turned his fury elsewhere. "And _you_ –" he shot Mustang a glare. "You called my brother, and now he's all worried about–"

"I called Alphonse, because I thought it would be better for you to stay here and rest. I didn't want him to worry when you didn't make it home, Fullmetal." Mustang was nonplussed, his voice smooth as ever, soothing Edward's savage flare of temper. The surprisingly gentle fingers sliding the elastic out of his hair with such care, and running through the strands to settle it were equally calming. "Alphonse came over to bring some pajamas and a change of clothes for tomorrow."

"Your temperature was almost forty degrees by the time I got here, Brother," Alphonse explained, easing the pajama shirt over Edward's right arm and shoulder before pulling it the rest of the way on. "Of course I called the doctor. You should have told me how bad you were feeling today. Why didn't you tell me you were in so much pain?"

Edward growled irritably. "I didn't want you worrying." He closed his eyes as he was gently settled back into the pillows. His burst of petulance had robbed him of his energy. He felt one of them remove his dress shoes, the left one coming off almost effortlessly as the metal foot was more than a full size smaller than his natural one now. Feet and hands were always the first thing to react when a growth spurt happened. He remembered reading that somewhere. He sighed as his brother undid his belt. He wished Alphonse would leave off messing with his clothes. He could do it on his own if he could just rest a few more minutes. "I didn't want you to miss the party because of me."

Alphonse stopped tugging on Edward's trousers for a moment, but before he could say anything, Edward interrupted him. "You would have stayed home with me if I hadn't gone, and you know it. I'm tired of you missing out on things because of me and my mistakes." He squeezed his eyes shut, and was horrified to feel moisture seep out of the corner of one. He was gratified to find that Alphonse's focus was back on getting the pajamas on him. Trying not to draw attention to the movement, he rubbed the trickle away with his left hand.

"Sorry, is it dripping?" The General lifted the cloth from Edward's forehead, and laid it back in the basin on the night table. "It's probably not very cold now anyway."

"Yeah." Edward didn't know if the General had seen the tear or not, but he wiped both eyes, taking the excuse whether it was offered intentionally or not. "I forgot it was there."

Mustang's cool palm rested in its place for a moment. "Better… but you're still pretty hot, Ed." He said replacing the compress refreshed with cool water. The jangle of the bell at the door downstairs turned his attention away. "There's the doctor." He got up with what Edward would have sworn was a relieved sigh. Was the man really that concerned about him?

"Alphonse…" Edward caught his brother's hand as Alphonse climbed off the bed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite your head off. I'm just–"

"I know Brother," he answered kindly, squeezing. "It's all right. You don't feel well, so you're not yourself. Don't worry, ok? It's all right."

"It's not the Capitol doctor is it?"

Alphonse gave him the soft laugh he had used for years in place of a visible smile, now he could smile as well and it warmed Edward a little to see it. "No, Brother." He sat back on the edge of the bed, and flipped the cloth so the cooler side was against Edward's hot face, and then clasped Edward's hands in both of his. "I called yours. I'm sure those other guys are competent enough, but Winry and Auntie sent you to Dr. Sheridan before, so that's who I called. He knows your automail, and he knows what's been going on with you."

The sound of footsteps and voices coming up the stairs told Edward that the General and the doctor were on their way up. Alphonse started to get up, but Edward clutched at his little brother's hand tenaciously, his unease lending him the strength to hold on to it. "Al!" Oh how he hated doctors. Not doctors in general of course. Obviously Alphonse meant to be one in as much as he was studying alchemic medical applications, which meant that first he was studying standard medicine. It was just when he was the patient. He knew it was foolish, and childish, but he couldn't help it. The moment of panic nauseated him until he pushed it back, taking comfort in his brother's reassuring hand in his. "Stay with me, ok?" He whispered not wanting the others to hear him.

"Of course," Alphonse laughed. "Otherwise I won't know what your medicines are, so I won't know what I have to make you take!"

Edward snickered at that, though his heart wasn't in it. He held onto his brother's hand, and looked away as Mustang opened the door for the doctor.

"Well, Edward," Sheridan sat back in the chair after a few minutes' examination. "I know you don't want to hear it, but you're really a very sick young man."

It was true. Edward didn't want to hear it. So much so that he kept his head turned away from the doctor while he gave out his prognosis. As usual, he felt worse now than he had before he'd been poked and prodded for fifteen minutes. As Alphonse had said, Sheridan did understand what was going on with him. So well that he managed to find places with his searching fingers that he hadn't even known were sore. His shirt was unbuttoned, and the right side pulled away from what remained of his shoulder. His arm lay uncoupled on the blankets next to his right hip. The outer cover plates to his shoulder were on down next to his leg. Normally, in contrast to the white-hot sear of reconnecting, removing his arm was nothing more than a quick flash of discomfort as the nerve connections disengaged. This time though, Edward had all but fainted again when the doctor had flipped open the locks and eased it out of the port. As always, it felt strange to have it off, but the absence of its weight was something of a relief at the moment.

"Brother," Alphonse squeezed his good shoulder. "Listen to what the doctor has to say."

"I'm listening," Edward grumbled. He continued to stare at the opposite wall.

Dr. Sheridan sighed tolerantly. "The socket is badly infected again."

"Again?" Mustang's voice made him look away from the wall. He hadn't known that the General had been leaning against the doorframe the whole time.

"Yes," Alphonse began. "He's been sick since–"

"Al!" Edward growled. He grabbed his brother's shirt and tried to jerk on it to stop him from saying any more, but his grip was too weak with pain now to hold the fabric.

Alphonse shot Edward a warning glance that Edward didn't often see from his brother. It made it clear who was in charge right now, and for a moment, shut him up. Edward ground his teeth and went back to staring at the wall, as Alphonse explained. "He's been sick on and off pretty much since we got back to Amestris. Since before that really. You knew his port assemblies were damaged while he was away the first time, right?"

"Yes," Edward heard Roy answer. "I understand that he and Hohenheim had to rebuild them on their own knowledge with the materials they had at hand."

It wasn't the whole truth, but it was how Edward and Alphonse had explained the mess to Dr. Sheridan the first time he'd seen it. Hohenheim's knowledge had been more than adequate. The problem had more to do with the immediacy of Edward's need. Martensite steel might have been acceptable, but it wasn't something readily available and expensive beyond belief in post-war London. They had been forced to work with what they could get, and work without the use of alchemy to improve the steel. They had done the best they could in order for Edward to have any sort of functionality to his limbs.

The Rockbells of course knew the whole story. Winry had made some quick repairs to the ports when he'd come back the first time, and she had replaced the prosthetics Hohenheim had made for him. He hadn't been there long enough for her to do any more, and too much had been going on at that moment for Edward to explain anything. He'd been forced to explain when ongoing problems with his leg had become too serious to ignore. That had only been a few weeks after he and Alphonse had found a way to return home, Winry had replaced it completely. The new port was more advanced than his original one, and besides high-grade bio-steel, some of his parts were made of a lightweight non-metallic super hard thermoset polymer. Replacing the port had been a painful procedure certainly, but since the transition between flesh and steel was at mid-thigh; the connections were nowhere near as complicated as the ones in his shoulder. Edward dreaded having this one replaced, and had done his best to put it off indefinitely.

"The problem," Sheridan added, "is that Edward's shoulder socket has degraded significantly. These low-grade metals are corroding, and the impurities are leaking into his system. That's causing repeated infections in the flesh under and around the whole assembly. This is the worst I've seen it, Edward. I don't see how your port is even functioning unless it's by sheer will. You're almost in a state of complete rejection of your whole socket. It's very serious. You have to get this replaced this time."

"His mechanic is coming in a couple of days," Alphonse offered. "She's one of the best."

"The infection is very bad. I'll do my best to treat it, but I can't stress enough how serious it is. He could lose even more of his shoulder tissue, and if it gets much worse it could threaten his life. We'd better get it under control before she does any serious work on the socket itself. Otherwise the infection could spread. It's already in your lymph nodes," he added, feeling along Edward's neck and jaw with his fingers, reminding him of how sore and swollen they were.

"Fine…" Edward ground out. He was irritated that half the time they seemed to be talking over him, as if he weren't there, even though he knew it was his own fault because he continued to keep his gaze on the wall. "It's serious. I understand that it's serious, so lay off already."

"Brother…" Alphonse's warning sounded so sad and worried, that Edward bit his lip to keep from saying anything else rude. Clearly a change in attitude was in order here.

He squeezed his brother's hand and turned to look at the doctor. "I apologize. I'm not myself. Do whatever you've got to do to get this healed. I'm sure it involves needles. You know how I love that." He clenched his jaw for a moment to quell any further sarcasm escaping. "Let's just get it over with, ok?"

It took three injections total–and more promised the next day–all of them into the flesh near its connection to the steel in different areas of what remained of his natural shoulder. As expected, the needles hurt like hell and the medicine burned as it spread out. He somehow managed not to scream, and he tried not to move. Weak as Edward was, Alphonse and Mustang both had to help him hold still by the time the last injection went into the back of the shoulder. He was sure he had left nail marks in the arm of one of them.

He was made to swallow a handful of pills. Each one had to be explained before he would take it. There were pain pills, fever pills, pills to kill the inflammation, and something the doctor called an anti-bacterial. This last one he swallowed was something new that was supposed to help fight the infection from inside his body. When the doctor told him after he'd taken it that the medicine was made from mold, Edward was sure for a moment that Sheridan was about to get all of his damn pills right back. Once he got over the initial revulsion enough to think about it though, he wondered why it would bother him so much. Obviously he could use alchemy to make useful things out of things that might be repugnant just as with a lot of other sciences. Farmers made fertilizer out of shit and grew their food in it for crying out loud. So why shouldn't doctors be able to make medicine out of moldy bread? It was probably just because he was sick already, he decided. Besides all the other medicine he had to take, he was to bathe the whole area several times a day with a mixture of medicines. Alphonse had written them down while Edward had been busy taking pills. He could bet it was going to sting though whatever was in it. Lastly, he was to keep the entire socket and the flesh around it coated in bio-grease to try to bar the corrosion from getting to his living tissue as much as possible. As he relaxed back into the pillows he realized he was glad Alphonse was there after all. He'd never remember all this crap. His mind was already wandering.

"I think we'll leave the arm off overnight." Sheridan said as he packed up his bag. "Reconnecting while you're already sick and in pain seems like an unnecessary torment. Let's get that under control a bit first. I don't think he'll really need it while he's resting, and he needs to rest," he added to Alphonse with a chuckle. "I can reconnect it tomorrow if he feels up to it. Edward," The doctor speaking his name regained his attention slightly, "I'd rather you stay put. Driving on rough roads is bound to cause more pain, and you need your strength."

Edward mumbled in response. He couldn't quite formulate a proper answer.

"I'd actually rather he wasn't moved for a couple of days. Is that all right General?"

"Oh, but–" Alphonse started to protest.

"Yes, it's fine. He's welcome to stay until he's feeling better." This last sounded more like it was directed towards Alphonse. Probably Alphonse was worried about putting the General out.

Right now Edward couldn't care less. His head was reeling again either from the pain of the injections or the pain pills. He wasn't so sure which, but it was all he could do to keep conscious. He realized that the doctor and Al had stepped out into the hall to talk when Roy, pulled his pajama shirt closed and buttoned it up for him.

"I'll put Alphonse in my room for the night Ed. It's right across the hall, so he'll hear you if you call I'm sure. I can sleep in the other guestroom. The bathroom is at the end of the hall if you need it."

Edward nodded sleepily, and watched his old commander turn the gaslights down almost all the way before he stepped out into the hall leaving the door ajar. He could hear them talking but their words had no meaning to him as sleep dragged him down.


	3. Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Edward Elric becomes ill and passes out while walking home from a holiday party. Roy Mustang brings him to his own house and alerts his brother. Alphonse Elric summons the doctor and we learn that Edward has a serious infection in his shoulder socket, bordering on the rejection of his automail port.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Right now Edward couldn’t care less. His head was reeling again either from the pain of the injections or the pain pills. He wasn’t so sure which, but it was all he could do to keep conscious. He realized that the doctor and Al had stepped out into the hall to talk when Roy, pulled his pajama shirt closed and buttoned it up for him._
> 
> _“I’ll put Alphonse in my room for the night Ed. It’s right across the hall, so he’ll hear you if you call I’m sure. I can sleep in the other guestroom. The bathroom is at the end of the hall if you need it.”_
> 
> _Edward nodded sleepily, and watched his old commander turn the gaslights down almost all the way before he stepped out into the hall leaving the door ajar. He could hear them talking but their words had no meaning to him as sleep dragged him down._

**Date:** 06.Dec.19 - Saturday  
 **Time:** 03:26  
 **Location:** Central City – Home of General Roy Mustang, Chairman: National Board of Alchemy

The uneven pounding of Edward's feet running down the hallway overhead awakened Roy. Momentarily disoriented, he sat up on his couch when he heard the bathroom door slam.

"Ed?" That was Alphonse's voice and his lighter footsteps hurrying after his brother. The only response Roy heard from the older brother was an uneasy moan and then violent sounding sickness. The door opened and closed again and he could hear Alphonse speaking what sounded like reassurances from the tone, but Roy couldn't make out what he was saying.

His book fell, forgotten, to the floor as Roy got off the couch and started up the stairs. He hadn't meant to sleep there, and his back told him how it disapproved of the mistake as he climbed. "Do you need anything Alphonse?" He asked when he reached the other side of the door. He felt bad for Edward, but since his brother was with him it was probably better for him to stay out.

"No, sir," Alphonse called out over his brother's noisy misery. "Not really. Not until he's finished with this anyway."

"You can get a facecloth for him from the linen cabinet next to the sink."

Alphonse thanked him, and Roy settled himself against the doorframe, staying close in case he was needed for anything after all. It seemed like a long time before there was quiet. He heard the cabinet open, water running and then the soft rattle of pills being shaken from a bottle. Roy hadn't missed the handful Edward had been given earlier, but the bottles and packets crowding the bathroom counter where Alphonse had put them had still surprised him a little. No wonder Edward needed Alphonse to keep them straight. He doubted Edward would have taken any of them if it had been left up to him. Roy seemed to remember that even when they had been boys there had been arguments between Edward and Alphonse about whether Edward would even take anything for the pain his automail often gave him. Usually Edward would not.

As if to confirm that recollection, there was some mumbling from Edward, which gave way to what sounded like quickly whispered disagreement between the brothers.

Edward apparently tried to settle it by half shouting "NO! I don't want–"

"Take them NOW! Or I'll make you!"

"FINE!"

Then there was silence.

"You guys all right?"

"Yes Chairman," Alphonse answered. "You can come in now if you want."

Edward sat on the floor against the wall looking every bit as small as he had in his boyhood when he had despaired of ever reaching five feet tall. His expression was bleak, his knees drawn up to his chest and his remaining arm resting on top of them. He was alert, but he was deathly pale. The stark electric lighting emphasizing his pallor and the dark shadows around his eyes in a way the softer gas lights in the bedroom had not. He glanced up at Roy as he entered, then looked away seeming embarrassed.

Alphonse sat on his heels in front of his brother. He had a length of Edward's hair grasped in his hand, and was scrubbing at it with a washcloth. "One of the hazards of keeping your hair long I guess," he commented lightly, dropping the blond strands to Edward's shoulder and tossing the cloth neatly into the sink.

Edward rolled his gold colored eyes.

"You all right now Ed?" Roy asked crouching on his left.

Edward shrugged slightly. He started to open his mouth to answer.

"Keep your mouth closed, Ed!" Alphonse admonished. He slapped one hand under his brother's jaw to emphasize the command.

Edward bared his teeth and growled at him, but did as he was told.

"He can't talk right now." Alphonse explained. His older brother continued to glare at him, but Alphonse didn't let go until Edward relaxed and waved a hand at him to indicate that he would do what Alphonse clearly expected. "I made him put some arnica tablets under his tongue. I don't want him to try to swallow them and take the risk getting of sick again right away after all that. So he'll have to hold them there until they dissolve."

"Why?"

"To lessen shock." Alphonse answered hesitantly. "He… was having a hard time. There was a little blood."

"You mean that he…"

Edward waved his hand again as if to dismiss the general's concern, and shook his head slightly, but Roy thought his pale face betrayed some fear. He rested his chin on his arm for a moment, and then buried his face. He was visibly shaking. Roy got up and opened the linen closet.

"It's more than likely from coughing," Alphonse explained as Roy wrapped a blanket over Edward's shoulders. "I think the infection is causing nerve feedback from some of his port connections. Until recently that hadn't happened since the first few weeks of rehab right after his surgery."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know." Alphonse said stroking his brother's back and pulling the blanket a little closer around him, "Not for certain. I mean obviously it means that Ed is going to have to take it awfully easy and try to keep it from flaring up any worse. I haven't really learned enough about feedback yet to have any idea of the real internal dynamics–"

"No," Mustang interrupted Alphonse's rambling, "Sorry, Alphonse," he added reaching across to touch the younger brother's arm for a moment." I meant what's nerve feedback?"

"Oh… It's a kind of malfunction that can happen with an automail socket. It's more common with new installations that haven't healed yet. The nerves misinterpret the signals coming back from the automail, or send them to the wrong place. I don't really know enough about it to be very clear on it. With his leg it was really just an annoyance. Sometimes it would make his leg twitch or jerk unintentionally." Alphonse chuckled slightly. "He kicked me pretty hard once. By accident… so he says."

Edward snorted softly about that as Alphonse continued. "Ed didn't just lose his arm, though. A lot of his shoulder is involved. When all the outer plates are off like this you can see just how much of it is actually part of the socket–how much flesh is missing. Because of that, the nerves in his chest–"

This time Edward interrupted him by smacking the back of his hand against his brother's knee. He lifted is head, and rapped his fingers lightly against his own chest, then jerked them open and closed for a moment in what looked to Roy like a spastic pantomime of scratching, before he nodded towards Mustang. Somehow Alphonse understood what the older brother meant by that as Edward let his face rest against his knees again.

"Ed explains it like you get a tickle in your throat or chest that makes you feel like you have to cough, only it doesn't go away when you do. The more you cough the worse it gets. Back then Pinako used to say that he'd regret pushing too hard when his sockets weren't healed enough for what he was trying to force them to do. And he would too. He'd start having feedback and then coughing fits. Sometimes he'd cough until he'd get sick, or pass out. Pretty often he'd break capillaries and bring up blood too. But he wouldn't stop pushing himself. Then the fevers and pain and exhaustion would make him so sick he couldn't stop throwing up. He'd have to stop for a while then. But before long he was right back at it. Either way, the feedback or the surgery itself didn't usually cause the bleeding so much as the physical reactions to it. It was… awful." Alphonse voice tightened, and he stopped for a moment, his eyes troubled, his hands clenched.

Edward raised his head again. His only hand closed on one of his brother's and squeezed for a moment, his aureate gaze intense.

At the gesture, Alphonse's expression cleared and he went on. "It's not as bad now," He gave his brother's hand a pat. "He has better control. But his stomach was upset because of the pain pills and all. He got sick, and that had him coughing a lot, so I think that's what happened this time too. Auntie, used to give him something to stop him from coughing when he could take it, but I don't remember what it was." For a moment, the younger boy's expression was clouded again, as if he somehow blamed himself for not being able to remember something from when he had been barely ten years old. "I'll ask the doctor when he comes back tomorrow. Until then the arnica will help at least somewhat. He might not feel as bad anyway. He'll be all right, Chairman." It was clear from his tone that though he was concerned about his brother, he was also absolutely sure–perhaps bolstered by the silent reassurance Edward had given him a moment before–of the assertion he made. "Brother is very strong."

Edward gave his brother a weak smile for the genuine optimism. He ground first one eye then the other with his hand before pointing towards the room Roy had lent him. His hand was almost steady now.

"You ready to go back to bed now?" Roy asked.

Edward nodded and put his hand on Roy's arm to get his feet under him.

"You ought to let one of us carry you Brother," Alphonse admonished reaching out as if he meant to do just that. "After all that, I don't think you should exert yourself right now."

With a disdainful snort, Edward shook his head and waved him away. He used Roy as a lever to pulled himself to his feet before he motioned him out of the way as well. Roy almost chuckled at the impatient growling sigh had heard from Edward so many times before.

Alphonse walked alongside his brother, but the only help he offered–other than to be close at hand–was to keep one hand lightly resting in the middle of Edward's back. Roy, walking a few steps behind, had the sense that this had more to do with Alphonse's tactile need to express his concern and of his closeness with his brother, than with support in any literal sense. It occurred to Roy that he had never known two brothers as different and yet as close. Even when they fought and argued with each other, there was no question of the bond between them. Woe to any man who tried to take them on or get between them either.


	4. Contrary Edward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously: Edward Elric becomes ill after a party with a serious infection in his shoulder socket. He ends up at Roy Mustang's house where the doctor confirms that the alchemist is nearly in a state of complete rejection of his automail port. Edward has a difficult night, but his brother helps him through it.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Alphonse walked alongside his brother, but the only help he offered–other than to be close at hand–was to keep one hand lightly resting in the middle of Edward's back. Roy, walking a few steps behind, had the sense that this had more to do with Alphonse's tactile need to express his concern and of his closeness with his brother, than with support in any literal sense. It occurred to Roy that he had never known two brothers as different and yet as close. Even when they fought and argued with each other, there was no question of the bond between them. Woe to any man who tried to take them on or get between them either._

**Date:** 06.Dec.19 - Saturday  
 **Time:** 08:26  
 **Location:** Central City – Home of General Roy Mustang

"Do I smell coffee?"

Roy turned to see Alphonse standing behind him in the kitchen doorway. "You look like you need it Alphonse" Roy reached for another mug. "Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Oh yes sir," he said stepping back out of Roy's way as they exited the kitchen. "I'm a light sleeper, but I can cat nap pretty well." He rubbed his eye with one hand.

"So in other words, you were in there with Ed the rest of the night?" Roy smirked, sure now that Alphonse had not gone back to bed after Edward's bout of sickness.

"Yes, but I still got some more sleep. Ed was pretty restless. I think the fever was bothering him. So I stretched out next to him." He caused to sip his coffee.

"That didn't make him more restless?" Roy laughed.

"Oh no," Alphonse responded. "See, if I'm lying there he doesn't want to disturb me. So even if he's restless, as long as he thinks I'm asleep, he'll lie still. So that way at least he's resting. Even if he knows I'm awake, he'll keep still most of the time because of course he doesn't want to keep me up."

"I see." The general set his cup down on the table. "He's sleeping now?"

"Yes sir," Alphonse nodded. "He was awake earlier, but I tricked him into sleeping again." The way Alphonse shrugged left Roy with the sense that the boy felt guilty for that. "I pretended to go back to sleep, and waited until he fell asleep out of boredom." Now there was a soft laugh. "The fever is down some. I think he's feeling better today." He yawned and sipped his coffee. "He says he does–I hope he is." The boy frowned. "He isn't always truthful about things like this, Chairman." He sighed softly, offered a tired shrug and an obviously halfhearted smile. "Hey," Alphonse glanced around the room, " where are the dogs? I haven't seen them at all since I got here."

"Oh," Roy got up from the dining room table. "Moxy is outside playing in the snow. Roxy, on the other hand, is outside supervising. I had them in the run last night. I thought they might bother Ed. You know how much Moxy likes him." The older man walked over to the French doors that lead into the private section of the back yard. A moment later, a fox terrier was bouncing excitedly outside the door. "Here's she is now."

"What about Roxy," Alphonse wanted to know. He got up from the table too, and came to stand beside Mustang, and just as a second terrier joined the first at the door. "Oh! It's really snowing isn't it, sir?"

"We got an inch or so last night." The General opened the door for the dogs. "They're calling for more later today, but at the moment, it's just blowing. Moxy has never seen it before." The little dog leaped up and down in front of him a few times. "Isn't that so Moxy?" He chuckled as the realization hit him that he was using what others often referred to as his wooing voice, and he was using it on his dog. He crouched down to have his face licked a few times before she left him to tear around the dining room table, and then she came back to run in circles around Alphonse.

"She seems very excited about it," The boy observed, his eyes sparkling at the display as the dog broke away from him to run back and forth across the room several times. She stopped for a split second, at a point, her nose twitching, and darted towards the stairs.

"Uh…" Roy looked up from petting the older dog. "Moxy," he called. He didn't want to raise his voice and risk waking Edward, given the difficult night he'd had, but the terrier was already up the stairs. "Hmph, disobedient too." He noted, getting to his feet.

Alphonse's brow furrowed for a moment, and then cleared as the little dog trotted back down the stairs, her short tail still a blur. Her posture was contrite though, and she stood expectantly next to Mustang while he rewarded her belated obedience with a few strokes down her back. Roy smiled at Alphonse's chuckle. He knew his behavior with the terriers probably seemed incongruous with the stolid commander that they had come to know as boys. "I'd better run home and feed Kitty and Ralph."

Roy smirked. Edward had surprised everyone when he had taken in the Xerxes greyhound. "Why in the world did he name that dog Ralph?"

"Ha!" Alphonse rolled his eyes. "He was poking fun at me because of Kitty," he explained. "He always meant to change it to something else, but it just stuck." The boy snickered. "Well, I always meant to give Kitty a more inventive name too, so it serves him right. Now he's stuck with Ralph."

"I see…" The General sat down at the table again and picked up the newspaper, scanning the front page for a moment.

"You said it was supposed to snow a lot more?" Alphonse asked.

"That's right," Mustang flipped the paper over to the weather brief at the bottom of the front page and pushed it across the table towards Alphonse. "Looks like we can expect six or eight inches, and they expect ice further south.

"I'd better go before the weather gets any worse."

"You should bring Ralph back with you." Mustang took the paper back and drank from his coffee now that it was cool enough. "Cats don't mind being on their own so much, but dogs will pine when they're left alone."

"If you're going to get Ralph, could you grab me a few things, Al?"

"Ed?" Alphonse got up and started for the stairs. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was." Edward clumped down the stairs. Moxy was tucked under his arm wiggling happily. She seemed to feel that she'd done something important by going up and waking Edward for everyone.

"I didn't pull the door shut…"

"Hush! It's way past the time I normally get up anyway," the older brother admonished setting the terrier down as he reached the foot of the stairs. She danced around his feet for a moment before trotting off into the back of the house. "Besides that, I bet I got more sleep than you did anyway. And more than you think I did. That's for sure." He sat down at the table and pounded on it with the first two fingers of his hand. "Is that coffee, Mustang? How come you both have some and I don't?"

"Brother!"

Mustang gave a short laugh. "I didn't think you liked it, Fullmetal."

"What?" That elicited a derisive snort. "That explains why I drink it every morning before work, right? Pretty observant of you to notice that when you were the Bastard Colonel," he added while Alphonse waved his hands trying to shush him. "I've only been drinking it since I was fourteen. Since I picked up the habit in your office, I guess you wouldn't have had the chance to notice it while you were so busy hiding from your paperwork."

An answering snicker came from the General. "I had a strong impression from you last night that you didn't like coffee, Fullmetal."

"Hah!" Edward got up and stumped towards the kitchen. "See how good coffee sounds when _you're_ about to puke."

"Well, he does have a point there, sir," Alphonse grinned sheepishly, as Mustang got up and followed Edward.

"Dammit!" Edward called from the kitchen as cabinet doors opened and closed noisily. "Where do you keep the mugs?

"Ed, go sit down, I'll bring the coffee out." Then he added quietly. "Don't let your brother see you swaying on your feet like that either. He's worried enough."

"Yah," The blond answered a little breathlessly his hand pressed to the front of his shoulder. "I'm ok, huh? Just a little pain." He straightened and walked back out. Ruffling his brother's hair as he walked by, Edward sat heavily in the chair next to him. "Give me your notebook Al. I'll write down the stuff I need. **  
**

* * *

**Date:** 06.Dec.19 - Saturday  
 **Time:** 08:39  
 **Location:** Central City – Home of General Roy Mustang

"I have some of these books in my library," Mustang offered, setting a steaming mug next to Edward as the he wrote out his list in inelegant choppy printing. It was the best he could do with his left hand. Most people were so used to seeing Edward write this way that despite its awkwardness, it never occurred to them that Edward had given up his dominant hand. Alphonse remembered Mustang's amazement the first time he had seen the older brother write a set of complex equations at speed on a blackboard with his right hand. Edward didn't talk about it. It was the sacrifice he had made. He didn't like to mention any shortcomings with the limbs Winry had given him, but Alphonse understood that the fine dexterity his brother needed in his fingers to handle a pen with his automail hand just wasn't there. Writing on a blackboard involved more motion with the wrist and arm, rather than with the fingers. "I have quite a few of them actually." Mustang was pointing to the ones he recognized. "You're welcome to use them, Ed."

"Hmm." Edward mulled over the listed texts and started putting lines through some of them. "Some of these that would be all right. This one" he marked it with a lopsided asterisk, "and this one," a second mark went on the paper. "I have notes written in the margins, and I need those."

"Brother," Alphonse chewed the inside of his lip as he considered his words then rushed forward with them. "Do you really need to be worrying about this right now? I mean, Dr. Sheridan ordered you on bed rest. You really shouldn't even be up. Can't you get a substitute?"

"What?" Edward stared wide eyed at his brother "Oh no. HELL no! Especially not the first level mathematics class. I can't just have some moron come in and just start reading formulas to them directly from the text. They won't understand it. They need to see how it works." He sighed softly and dropped his eyes from Alphonse's frustrated glare. "All right. Maybe for the next class anyway. But those boys are two weeks from their semester finals. All three classes are." Alphonse wanted protest, but Edward didn't give him the chance this time. "You are too, for that matter." He narrowed his eyes at his younger brother. " _You'd_ better not miss class because of me either!"

Alphonse opened his mouth to argue, but realized it was pointless. "I understand Brother…but maybe you can let me help you with it. I don't have class when your first level class meets." He'd have to work on him slowly about this. He understood his brother too well to push him on it just yet.

Edward wavered on his answer. "Let me think about that. Ok, Alphonse?" Alphonse expression must have been more doubtful than he intended, for Edward's tone became placating now. "I promise I'll think about it, Al."

Al tapped his fingers for a moment and then sighed and returned his attention to the coffee in front of him.

Edward's next words got his attention back quickly. "You know," he said, thoughtfully tapping the eraser of his pencil on the table, "The signing for the house is on Wednesday."

"What?" Alphonse wasn't sure what his brother meant. They had looked at the modest story and a half bungalow together when it had first come on the market back in summer. Later, Edward had made an offer on it without telling Alphonse about it. The elder hadn't wanted to disappoint his younger brother if it didn't work out. When the offer had been accepted though, the original plan had been that Edward would move into his house and Alphonse would keep the apartment for himself. When Edward's health had deteriorated again, Alphonse had decided to move with him, and look for his own place once Edward was better. "Obviously we'll have to postpone it Brother. I don't think you'll be well enough."

"Al," Edward tapped on the table with the eraser again, this time more pointedly. "If I don't sign on the house Wednesday, we could have a real problem. The movers can't come on Thursday, because they won't have any place to move our stuff to. I guess we'll have to put it in storage. We can't postpone the move because the apartment has already been rented. They're not going to want to wait after we asked the landlord if we could break the lease. They're expecting us to turn in the keys on Saturday so the new tenant can move in. If I don't make that closing on time, we've got no place to live.

Alphonse stared at Edward. "What?" he repeated. How could he have forgotten something so important? "Wait! I hadn't even thought about us moving Brother. You're in no condition to be doing all that work. Not even a week from now!"

Edward sighed. "I know, I know! You don't have to tell me Alphonse," he and rubbed his forehead, and Alphonse guessed that his head was starting to hurt again. "Let me think about this for a minute."

"You can rent a storage room at a weekly rate," Roy suggested. "That way, if you don't end up needing it after all, it's not a big deal right?"

"Right, right," Edward rubbed his thumb on the rim of his coffee mug absently then raised it to his lips for a drink. "That solves part of the problem, but–Look Al," he turned back to his brother. "You can do that, but I don't want to put off the signing yet. I don't know that I won't be fine by then."

Alphonse frowned and opened his mouth.

"Just hear me out Al." Edward said before his brother could retort. "If I'm not doing a lot better by Monday, or" he held up his hand, to gain a moment's forbearance, "Or if Dr. Sheridan still doesn't agree–then we'll call Monday and see if we can postpone a few days. I guess we can survive a week in a hotel. We stayed in plenty of them when we were kids. Or I might be able to get the university to rent us a dorm room for a week or two."

"I don't mind if you two stay here a few days," Roy agreed. "I meant that last night. If it turns out to be a couple of weeks because of this, it's still obviously the most logical choice." He waved his hand around the open dining area where they sat, his smile widening into a catty grin. "Obviously my space is at a premium," he added, his natural sarcasm showing in his sigh of resignation as he added, "but I'll just have to make do."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Well," he pressed the eraser of his pencil against his chin as he considered. "At any rate, I'm here for a couple of days until Dr. Sheridan says I'm allowed to get in the car and drive 6 blocks"

Alphonse conferred a look on his brother meant to quell the exchange. These two could seriously get on his nerves once they got started. What amazed him more was the idea that the two of them thought it was particularly funny.

Edward shrugged his shoulders, hissing as the action shot a bolt of pain through him. He dropped the pencil to hunch against his one hand as it clutched what remained of his right shoulder. A hard sharp cough wrenched him. Alphonse jumped to his feet, his hand rubbing his brother's back. Thankfully, that awful hack didn't repeat. Edward straightened a little. "Damn it!" he ground out through his teeth. He drew in a slow careful breath. "You'd think I'd remember that's sore," he added with a slight shudder, waving his brother away. "It's all right Al." He deliberately took his hand off his shoulder, picked up the pencil, and went back to work on his list.

"That's more than sore, Brother. You need to take a pain pill."

Edward shook his head, took a drink from his coffee, and continued to scratch out his list.

Alphonse pulled out his watch and jabbed a finger at the face. "It's past time Ed, for some of your other pills too."

"I haven't eaten, Al."

"I'm sure that the General has food!"

"Of course," Roy answered.

Alphonse gestured towards the councilman in acknowledgement as he sank back into his chair. Of course Mustang would back him up. After all, _he_ was the reasonable brother.

"I can make some toast for starters." The older man to the kitchen obviously meaning to make some regardless of who would eat it.

"Thanks, but I'm not really hungry," Edward called after him as if he hadn't just complained that he couldn't take his pills because he hadn't eaten. He continued to mutter under his breath. "Anyway, he just wants to show off that new pop-up toaster–"

"ED!" Alphonse hands stung as he slapped them on the table and leaped up again. "Why do we have to have this argument every day, several times a day?" The boy stomped up the stairs leaving Edward with his head ducked, drawing little circles around the edge of the paper with his pencil. In a moment Alphonse came back down the stairs with both hands full of Edward's medication. Edward had filled in most of the circles now with little faces. Most seemed angry. Alphonse slammed the bottles down on the table. "You think I don't know what's going on, but I'm not stupid. I think you have two choices Ed. One, you can take your medication now on an empty stomach because you think you _might_ throw up if you eat, which will almost _guarantee_ another round on your knees hugging Chairman Mustang's toilet. Or you can eat something even if you don't feel hungry, and maybe avoid that. I'd think you'd rather be pain free for a while even if it means being a little woozy."

"I can't stand either, Al" Edward moaned rubbing his forehead. "Why can't I just–"

"Even if you ditch the pain pill Ed," Alphonse interrupted him, "And I know that's what you want to do… I told you, I'm not stupid. But if you do, you'll have more feedback than you can manage. You think that choke just now was bad, you wait until you can't stop it when it starts. You still have to take the medicines for the infection and fever. So, you may as well just take them all." He picked up the bottle of pain pills and set them forcefully in front of his brother. "Listen to me. There was a time when I didn't speak up, and look what happened to you." He plucked at the empty sleeve of Edward's pajama shirt.

"That wasn't your fault!" Edward's eyes never left the bottle of pills in front of him. "You got worse than this because I didn't listen to you…" he trailed off rubbing the center of his forehead so hard with his fingers that he left a red mark. He sighed and reached for the bottle. "I'll take them… all right? But let me get something besides coffee down first. **  
**

* * *

**Date:** 06.Dec.19 - Saturday  
 **Time:** 10:48  
 **Location:** Central City – Home of General Roy Mustang

"Dr. Sheridan said he'd come back this afternoon," Alphonse said quietly. "As long as you're sure you don't mind, I'll run over to our apartment now. I'll just stay long enough to change and bring back these things on his list. And get Ralph!" Alphonse glanced at his brother sprawled on the couch. A quilt was drawn over him, and Moxy and Roxy were both tucked in around him, happy to help keep their friend warm. Edward had refused to return to his bed. "I'm glad he's sleeping again. He needs it. So–" Alphonse laughed softly, "Ed's not going to be too happy when he wakes up and finds out I took his arm apart… but Winry told me to."

Edward's arm lay on the dining room table, the top half partially disassembled. A phone call to Winry had gotten him instructions for removing the outer plates of the upper arm, which revealed the main bone and conduits. Those were intact, but the lynch pin had been pulled, so that the top connector could be removed from the rest of the assembly. That part was in Mustang's small private lab soaking in the solvent Winry had recommended.

He shrugged. "Dr. Sheridan isn't going to agree to put it back on with him so sick anyway, and she said it was better to take away the option so Ed couldn't argue about it. She said that given where the corrosion is, that it probably won't reconnect anyway until she does some work on it, which is what I thought too. She says if he's having feedback, that it would probably just make it worse. She's taking the noon train now. It's scheduled to arrive at eight fifteen tomorrow night. She can fix him up once she gets here. Boy, she had a few choice words about Ed for letting it go for so long." Alphonse wondered why his cheeks were heating up, given Edward's penchant for colorful language. "She was pretty mad because as far as she knew he just needed a leg adjustment and some maintenance on the shoulder's rotation mechanism. I hope she's cooled down before she gets here, or he's going to get an earful." He tried to shrug off his embarrassment. "Oh," Alphonse handed the older man his notebook. "Anything else I can mark off the list?"

Mustang took the list and looked it over. The first half was in Edward's awkward left-handed printing. Besides the texts for the three classes he taught at Central University, he had asked for several high-level alchemy texts from his lab. Some of those were crossed off the list now; those titles from Roy's shelves stacked on the floor next to the couch. Edward's arm dangled over them, another spread open across his chest. He wanted his current research journal too of course. From his study, he wanted his grade book with a note to bring any papers stuck in it. Then he listed the large lap slate out of his room, a new box of chalk and a bag of horehound sticks from the candy shop around the corner from their building. "Nowhere else!" he had written below it in all capital letters. It was underlined three times. Alphonse guessed that was what made the older man chuckle

"I have a decent sized lap slate, in my den," Mustang noted as he read down the list. "You can take a look and see if it'll serve before you go. Horehound?"

"He probably remembers that it would sometimes tone down that tickle. We both like it anyway, so we usually have some in the house, but I made the mistake of getting him some from somewhere else once." Alphonse smirked to indicate how that had gone over. "He has never let me forget it."

"He wants his razor?" The only two seemingly practical things Edward had asked for were his loafers and his razor. Everything else was in the precise neat print of Alphonse's hand, and here were the practical things like clothing, toothbrush, hairbrush, housecoat… Roy chuckled, a bit giving the older brother a glance. "It's funny. He is looking a little scruffy, isn't he? I guess it hadn't occurred to me that Edward would shave now."

"Well…" Alphonse's offered a mischievous grin. "Normally he doesn't…"

Roy raised an eyebrow, which caused the younger man to laugh outright. He put the palms of his hands together in front of him for a moment as he or Edward would to begin a transmutation. "He uses alchemy to do it?" Roy thought about that for a moment, "Isn't that a bit tricky?"

"I don't think so," Alphonse laughed. "Ask him to show you when he has his arm back. "I mean, sure you have to watch your aim," he added. "But you do when you shave with a razor too. Especially if you're Edward!" he giggled. "All we do is break the disulfide bonds and it turns to uh… well powder actually… It doesn't do anything to the skin."

"We?"

"Well, sure, why not? I can do it just as easily as he can." Alphonse scrubbed his chin with his thumb for a moment. "More easily since mine hasn't really filled in yet. But he can't transmute like that with his arm off. Drawing out the actual array itself would be pretty time consuming. Believe it or not, it's a little complicated. Shaving with the razor would take half the time, even for Brother.

"I'm sure I have an extra safety razor, and plenty of blades–"

"Ah..." Alphonse hadn't meant to interrupt, but since he had, he decided to continue. "Ed can't use a safety razor, Sir. He uh... can't hold it right with his left hand. I mean–" Alphonse tried to redirect himself. He hadn't meant to say that. Edward didn't like people knowing about his limitations. "Ed's straight razor was a gift from his friend Alfons Heidrich. Brother is very particular about it. There's other stuff in his shaving kit he's going to want anyway."

"I think I'd just leave it until I felt better." Roy was shaking his head, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Hmm." Alphonse agreed, but he understood his brother's motives. "But Edward can't stand it. Personally, I think he's a little too acutely aware of how much he looks like our Father now, and tries to distance himself by staying clean shaved." He snickered. "Anyway, if you don't mind me leaving him with you for a bit, I'll try to hurry back. Before he wakes up and can be a pain." He added wryly, glancing at his brother's limp form."

Roy laughed. "Take your time, Alphonse. Looks like he's out for a while. Though if you get back soon, you might have time for a nap yourself"

"I'll be fine sir."

Roy accepted that. Alphonse was young enough not to feel the exhaustion so keenly. "Well, in that case, no need to hurry. I'm sure Edward will be fine. I can keep an eye on him. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My publish dates are currently way off. FanFiction.net has not preserved my original publish dates correctly. This story originally started posting I believe in 2006. I just estimated dates as I posted here.


	5. It's So Heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Edward Elric seriously ill with an infection in his shoulder socket bordering on rejection of the assembly collapses and ends up at the residence of Roy Mustang. Alphonse helps him through a difficult night, and Edward seems more like himself in the morning. Edward sends his brother to their apartment with a whole list of items he wants while he's supposedly confined to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Roy laughed. “Take your time, Alphonse. Looks like he’s out for a while. Though if you get back soon, you might have time for a nap yourself”_
> 
> _“I’ll be fine sir.”_
> 
> _Roy accepted that. Alphonse was young enough not to feel the exhaustion so keenly. “Well, in that case, no need to hurry. I’m sure Edward will be fine. I can keep an eye on him.”_

**Date:** 06.Dec.19 - Saturday  
 **Time:** Unknown  
 **Location:** Unknown

Flight from horrific dreams dragged Edward from a restless sleep. Despite being startled awake, it was like surfacing through miles of water. He felt so heavy and sluggish. It took him a moment to realize that the groan he'd heard just now had come from him. Sitting up was a struggle against the hot hammers behind his temples, and eyes that would not focus. He reached up with his flesh hand to rub his face. _Shit, what's wrong with me?_

Edward leaned back into the couch for a moment breathing through a twisting hell of nausea. He tried to rub his shaky stomach with his right hand but the limb didn't respond. "What the–" Fear shot through him, cold and hot. He grabbed at his arm with his left hand, but all he felt was the empty port through the fabric of his sleeve. "What the hell…" He tore himself off the couch and tried to get a good look at his surroundings. "Where the hell am I?" He regretted the sudden activity immediately. His vision darkened around the edges. _Drugged… Shit! I'm drugged!_ Everything was in motion. _Someone's drugged me_ It was clear now that he'd been taken captive. The reason was what he couldn't fathom. He couldn't even get enough function out of his stupefied brain to recall what he had been doing just before waking up here. _Where the hell is Al?_ He fervently hoped whatever trouble they'd gotten into that Alphonse had escaped unharmed. He wished to hell he could remember what had happened.

Reeling, Edward stumbled across the room until he found a table by slamming the inside of his hip into the corner of it–hard. _Thank goodness not the jewels!_ He ground his teeth and clutched at the hot blinding abuse he'd just done to himself. _But damn if it wasn't close!_ He took a breath; willed his heart to slow and his balance to return. _I better to get my shit together and figure out what's going on…_ He realized too, that he'd better start being a lot quieter about it. Only he could restore his brother. If he ended up dead Alphonse would be stuck like that forever. _I gotta get out of here._ His chest ached with the need to cough, but he fought it. Up to this point he was sure he had made and inordinate amount of noise, and having a fit of coughing wasn't his idea of keeping quiet. He did his best to clear his throat silently. Not that it helped the furious tickle there. His eyes watered from it, and it was all he could do to breathe evenly. Slamming his groin into the corner of the table hadn't helped his level of consciousness much either. Even if the hit wasn't as critical as it could have been, it was an amazing study in agony. His ears started to ring. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned heavily on the table trying to wait out the dizziness.

When he opened his eyes again, Edward discovered that the side of his face was pressed against the cool surface of the table. His knees had collapsed under him, and most of his weight was on his torso, as he lay sprawled across the table. His ribs ached from it and his mouth tasted metallic. He must have bitten his tongue or something. At the moment he was too disoriented to focus on that. He felt like he'd been lying there for a while. The roaring in his ears was changing pitch, easing off thankfully. His equilibrium was still way off, but he could focus his eyes better now. They snapped into sharp clarity when he realized that his arm was lying on the table right in front of him. _Shit! What the hell is going on here?_ His captors were either sadistic, or they really didn't expect him to be awake now. Edward chose the latter, and determined that he would take advantage of that. He straightened his legs, putting some of his weight back onto them. He found they would hold him, though he still gripped the table for support.

Edward took what he intended as a slow careful breath and reached for his arm. The air exploded back out of him in a desperate fit of coughing. His legs nearly buckled again. He dropped into a crouch his hand clasped over his mouth to muffle the noise. _What the hell is causing this…_ He drew in a shallow breath, staring at the fine spatter of blood on his palm, before closing his fingers around it fighting his instincts to cough again. He couldn't. It wasn't making things any better. If anything the irritation was getting worse. It almost felt like he'd been breathing vapors off the red water for too long; the harsh burning itch in his lungs and throat, the faintness and disorientation. Breathing out was easy enough–too easy–but he almost felt he couldn't breathe in again. He did it anyway, forced himself back to his feet. Ripping the thin sleeve out of the way sent a shocking amount of pain through his shoulder and chest, but Edward gritted his teeth against it and dragged his arm off the table to take a look at it.

"Dammit!" he cried before he could stop himself. "Dammit!" he slammed the arm down on the table in frustration, forgetting the noise. The top connector was completely screwed. Parts of it were missing. Maybe it had been torn off and the parts were still in the port. It sure hurt like hell. He rent the shirt to expose his shoulder. His world went unsteady again with the accompanying flare of pain. He shook it off and tried to get a look. _Oh no…_ There was almost nothing there. His whole shoulder was torn apart. This was worse than he'd ever seen it. His hand felt along the edge of the socket. Even the outer plates were missing. All of them. He could see through parts of his shoulder. "Oh damn! Winry's gonna kill me." He muttered.

On top of everything else, the rotation of the room was really starting to get to him now. "I gotta find a way out of here." Funny, motion sickness didn't usually get to him, but this was really just too much. He snatched his arm from the table with a scrape, and stumbled a few steps before nausea stopped him cold. He was forced to stand half bent for a few seconds, while his stomach debated about whether it was going to empty itself right there on the hardwood. It seemed to decide against it for the moment, and he moved on wondering what he'd eaten that made him feel so sick. _No_ , he corrected himself harshly, _Don't get confused here. It's the drug… or whatever they used on me_. He wove towards a curtain hanging from ceiling to floor against the wall. A soft glow came through it, so maybe there was a window he could break. _I've got to get out of here and find Al_ , he thought, shoving the curtain aside. Bright white light assaulted his eyes through the door he found there. Nausea rose harshly as the sudden glare renewed the blistering mallets thumping inside his head. He groaned, bile filling his throat as he slammed his palm down on the handle. If it was locked he was going to throw up all over the floor for sure. The grating cold that struck his face belayed his stomach's rebellion as he stumbled through the door, clutching his severed metal arm against his mostly bare chest.

Snow stung his face. Within a few steps he couldn't see anything in any direction with any clarity. It seemed like the building he'd come out of was on two sides of him, looking a little darker than the rest of the whitened sky. He headed away from those two walls as well as he could figure. The intense ambient light from the snow made the migraine a torment at least equal to the nausea, but the fresh air seemed to help his equilibrium some. He was still off balance. Something about his leg didn't feel right, but at least the world wasn't spinning now.

A wall came up in his face unexpectedly. He nearly walked into it before he saw it. Edward raised his eyes cursing under his breath. It must have been ten feet high. Shivering violently he considered his options. He didn't think he could climb it with an arm missing, and certainly couldn't do it and carry his arm at the same time. He had to find another way, and he wasn't going to last long in this weather either. Not dressed like this. He had to get out and get some kind of shelter until this drug wore off and he could figure out what was going on. Edward followed the wall for a ways back towards the house hoping he could find a gate. They'd been careless enough to leave the door open, so maybe he could get out. If not he could climb a gate easier than he could the wall; or transmute it… If he could draw an array in the snow with his finger maybe… The snow was falling awfully fast though.

It seemed like such a long time Edward slogged through the snow. It began to occur to him that he might have been better off to stay inside and hide somewhere until he could think, rather than wander around in this damn blizzard with no shoes or coat. He was considering trying to find the house again, when he encountered a gate set in the wall. "Great!" he exclaimed the previous idea completely out of his mind now. He jumped and hooked his elbow around one of the ornate iron bars at the top of the gate, the toes of his steel foot scrabbling for purchase at the middle hinge. His chest slammed against the steel arm he was holding, sending his breath out of him in a dizzy rush as he lost his grip and felt back into the snow.

The hard moaning gasp Edward heard from himself was brutally painful as he lay on his back, the wind knocked out of him. As soon as he had his breath in, it tore back out of him violently. He rolled onto his side, shaking with cold, trying to suck in another breath with the same result, this time spattering the snow with blood. Pushed himself up on to his hand and knees for another breath and another fit of painful bloody coughing, after which he vomited up everything in him. He hadn't been drugged, he decided, he'd been poisoned. Probably some kind of alkaloid. No wonder they'd left the door unlocked. They must not have expected him to wake up at all. But what about Alphonse? "NO!" he moaned trying to gain his feet. "I have to get out of here." He determined not to cough again even though he wanted to… whatever was wrong with him, he remembered coughing like this after his surgery, and having to learn to resist. Maybe they'd damage the nerves when they had torn his arm off. He was going to get out of this somehow. He had to for Alphonse's sake. Despite his best effort another burning itch made him choke, the breath and blood burst from him again. He swallowed hard then against the taste of iron in his mouth, and refused to cough any more. **  
**

* * *

 **Date:** 06.Dec.19 - Saturday  
 **Time:** 14:02  
 **Location:** Central City – Home of General Roy Mustang

Roy ran his hands back through his black hair one last time to distribute the hairdressing that made it more or less behave. "Ed?" he called when he found the boy was no longer asleep on the couch. The living room, in fact looked like a small disorganized tornado had been though it. He could almost follow the trail, from the stack of books now scattered across the floor as if they'd been tripped over, or knocked over by someone in a hurry. "Damn." The boy's former commander muttered.

He hoped Edward hadn't woken up feeling nauseous again. Edward, he'd been learning, wasn't someone who could be sick quietly though. So Roy thought he'd have heard the racket. So he wasn't surprised that Edward wasn't in the downstairs bathroom. Roy had just come from the upstairs one himself. Edward had seemed to be sleeping peacefully enough on the couch. It had just seemed silly to wake him and suggest he go back to bed, so Roy had put the dogs in their run and left him alone for a few minutes while he went for a quick shower and shave. "Ed!" he called, raising his voice now, "You all right Fullmetal?"

The dining room was more telling. First of all, the young alchemist's arm was missing off the table… the surface scratched badly where the heavy limb had been dragged across it. More worrisome was the dark smear of blood on the table, and more of the same on the floor nearby. "What the hell?" Roy touched the scarred wood, trying to figure out what Edward would have wanted with the broken automail. He couldn't explain it. He couldn't account for the blood he'd found either. "Damn it–ED!" he called. The quiet worried him almost more than if he could hear some sort of noise.

The chill of a draft turned him around, and carried him across the room to the open door. "Oh hell." He couldn't even see the garden wall, through the heavy blowing snow, and the temperature had dropped dramatically. How had Edward been dressed? A pair of thin pajamas? Had he even had a sock on his foot? Roy snatched his old dog-walking coat off the peg and went through the door into the back yard. "Edward?"

The noise was severely muffled by the fast falling snow and wind, but there was no mistaking that awful pained, coughing retch that he'd heard from Fullmetal last night. He moved toward it. He found the boy leaning against the wall with his back towards him. He looked like he was barely standing at all. The damaged automail was clutched in his hand, against his chest as he stood there swaying. The snow around him was trampled, and there were patches of red being rapidly buried by the new snow as if fell. Roy heard him clear his throat. "Are you all right Ed?" Roy reached out and touched the younger man's good shoulder lightly. Even in the cold it seemed to radiate heat through the shredded fabric.

Edward spun on him, wild-eyed. "Get away from me!" he swung the arm at Roy, forcing him to jump back a step. "You–-" his eyes widened as they focused on Roy. "YOU! It can't be you!" Amber eyes raked him up and down derisively. "He's not that short! Bastard, you think I'm fucking stupid? Or are you making fun of me again?"

Through this, Roy was startled enough that he only managed to raise his hands placatingly with a step back out of the boy's reach. Edward drew his breath in with a pained gasp. "What the fuck did you do to my arm?" he shouted closing that distance swinging the offending limb.

Roy parried with his hand, the broken metal arm blindsiding him somewhat, he would have a bruise from the blow, but he managed to snatch the bludgeon out of the blonde's hand and pitched it into the snow a few feet away. "Edward!" He hoped using the younger man's given name would get through to him, but the boy's delirium had too tight a hold on him. It gave him strength beyond what he should have given how ill he was.

Edward snatched a handful of Mustang's shirt and shoved him back against the wall. Roy resisted in so far as was necessary to defend himself. He still hoped he could reason with the other man until he was himself again. The cold would have to break the fever somewhat soon wouldn't it?

"Where's my brother?" The delirium had Fullmetal raising his voice to a scream now, his glassy eyes glaring savage ochre. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH ALPHONSE?"

"Brother!" Roy heard the youngest Elric's voice and an instant later felt Edward's hand go slack against him **  
**

* * *

 **Date:** 06.Dec.19 - Saturday  
 **Time:** 14:08  
 **Location:** Central City – Home of General Roy Mustang

"Brother!" Alphonse couldn't believe what he was seeing. "What are you doing to the chairman?"

Edward staggered back from Mustang and stared in equal disbelief.

"What's wrong with you Ed?"

"I think his fever is really high, Alphonse–-"

"YOU SHUT UP!" Edward screamed at him pointing, and turned his glazed eyes back to Alphonse. A cough racked him, and the gasping inhalation that followed was terrible to hear.

"Al?" Edward's hand clenched the fabric of his shirt against his chest as he struggled not to cough again. He must be hurting; had to be hurting. Tears were building in eyes wide in bewilderment that stared back at the younger brother. "That can't be you…it can't be. I put you–" his voice broke.

"That burden isn't yours to carry any more, Brother." Alphonse bent and picked up Edward's damaged metal arm. He kept his voice soft and as conversational as he could. "This one is mine."

"No…" Edward cried softly. "You can't carry it." Then, "It's so heavy Alphonse."

Alphonse held his ground as he watched the gradual change from confusion into recognition as it crossed Edward's pale face. It was painfully slow, but he couldn't push him. Whatever was causing this aberration, Alphonse was afraid of turning his brother's mental state back into confusion if he tried to approach before Edward got a better grip on reality.

"Alphonse?" Edward took a step towards him, evidently a bit dubious of what he was seeing. "Why am I out here?" Another of those awful wrenching coughs almost doubled him over for a moment; his hand came away from his mouth covered in blood. He tried to wipe it off on his shirt, but another bout splattered the snow with red droplets even as he fought to control it. His expression had cleared when he looked up again. He knew where he was, and he knew he was in trouble. "Al… I can't breathe." He stumbled, gasping now as Alphonse caught him. "I feel like I can't breathe!


	6. The Last Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Edward Elric seriously ill with an infection in his shoulder socket awakens at General Mustang’s house confused by a high fever. Thinking himself back in those days when he was fifteen and his brother still trapped within the armor, Edward assumes he’s been drugged and starts trying to escape until his brother returns from some errands and finds him outside trying to fight with a disconcerted Mustang. After a few moments, Edward starts to come out of the delirious fugue, but he’s still having real issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Alphonse held his ground as he watched the gradual change from confusion into recognition as it crossed Edward’s pale face. It was painfully slow, but he couldn’t push him. Whatever was causing this aberration, Alphonse was afraid of turning his brother’s mental state back into confusion if he tried to approach before Edward got a better grip on reality._
> 
> _“Alphonse?” Edward took a step towards him, evidently a bit dubious of what he was seeing. “Why am I out here?” Another of those awful wrenching coughs almost doubled him over for a moment; his hand came away from his mouth covered in blood. He tried to wipe it off on his shirt, but another bout splattered the snow with red droplets even as he fought to control it. His expression had cleared when he looked up again. He knew where he was, and he knew he was in trouble. “Al… I can’t breathe.” He stumbled, gasping now as Alphonse caught him. “I feel like I can’t breathe!”_

**Date:** 06.Dec.19 - Saturday  
 **Time:** 09:32  
 **Location:** Rush Valley – Atelier Garfiel: Neoteric Mechanical Applications

Winry put down the phone, a small frown pulling at her features. Alphonse had assured her that Edward was doing better, but his voice had been tight, almost too airy as he asked questions about the upper assembly of his brother’s arm.  The corrosion the younger brother was describing shouldn’t have been possible unless there was serious leakage through the bio-connections. He had to know that Edward would downplay his symptoms rather than worry his brother, but if there was leakage like that, it was no wonder he was so ill.  His pain must be off the scale.

The phone rang again before she got more than a few steps from it.  Winry sighed.  Alphonse must have forgotten something.  He could be so absent-minded sometimes, though with Edward sick she could hardly blame him.  Still, he’d better make it quick.  She had a train to catch at noon, and had yet to finish packing.  “Atelier Garfiel,” she answered “Winry Rockbell speaking.”

“Doctor Rockbell?” It wasn’t Alphonse.

Winry didn’t recognize the voice, but she nearly corrected him, unaccustomed to her new title as she was.  She could count the number of people who knew about it on one hand, and none of them other than Garfiel would normally call her by it.  In trying to puzzle it out, Winry hesitated long enough that the man spoke again before she did.

“Hello?  Am I getting through? Could I speak with Doctor Rockbell please?”

“Oh, Yes!” she answered quickly this time. “Sorry, this is Winry Rockbell. Can I help you?”

“A seat has been made available for you on the 10:04 Express to Central.”

“Made available?” Winry glanced over at Garfiel as he came into the room.

“Yes ma’am.  My notice here says that I am to make a seat available on the next train bound to Central, so you can get to a patient, correct?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to–”

Garfiel took the phone out of her hand before she could finish. “What time does that train leave?”

Winry stared at him.  Garfiel knew... it was so obvious.  He’d gone behind her back and had them put someone off that train to get her a seat.  “Oh no!  Mr. Garfiel–” she tried to take the phone back from him.

He rolled his eyes at her with a smirk and spoke to the trainman “She’ll be on it, thank you very much.”

Winry made another snatch at the phone, but he held it up out of her reach and then hung it up before she could try again.  “You better hurry up girl, you’ve got less than half an hour to get that train.”

“I’m not even packed,” Winry shook her hands, and then clenched them into fists.  “How could you tell them to make someone get off, Mr. Garfiel?  Why did–”

Her long time mentor took her by the shoulders and shook her lightly to quiet her.  “They didn’t pull anyone off, Winry girl.  They had a cancellation. That’s all. But even if they hadn’t, they could and would have pulled someone off that train, if no one would volunteer.  And it would be _right_.  You’re a doctor now, honey, and you have a sick patient that needs you up in Central.  You were up half the night worrying over that boy. No one would begrudge you that seat.”

“But–”

“Run up there and pack yourself a few days’ clothes, I’ll finish packing up your gear.” Garfiel told her turning her around and giving her a push in the direction of the rooms he had loaned her again while she was in Rush Valley.  “Don’t forget to pack a nighty, honey!” he called after her.

* * *

 

**Date:** 06.Dec.19 - Saturday  
 **Time:** 10:01  
 **Location:** Rush Valley Station

“Hurry honey,” Garfiel told her, urging her along.  “You run up to the ticket counter and get your boarding pass.  I’ll take care of this stuff,” he added, taking the rest of her bags for her along with the cases he was already carrying.  He flagged down the porter.

Winry came running back in a minute with her passes, and took her shoulder bag back from him…  “Ok… I’m all set.”

The boarding call went out, and Garfiel pushed her towards the train.  “Get going Winry, girl. He needs you,” There was a smirk on his painted lips, when she glanced over her shoulder at him.  He had to see the hot blush that crept into her cheeks at the implications she knew he was making. He clucked his tongue at her, and gently shoved her again as the second boarding call went out.  “Go on honey. I got all his leg parts packed up for you, in the big carrier, along with a full set of those new locomotor circuits and a few other things.  I’ll send the rest of your project by freight as soon as I can get everything packed up.”

Winry turned around her eyes widened. “All his parts are in the crate?  You got his locomotors?”

Garfiel nodded with a coy grin. “A few other neat toys too, you’ll see, honey.”  The whistle blew.

“Doctor Rockbell,” the conductor called from the doorway of the last car passenger car. “The train is about to leave.”

Winry closed the distance between herself and her mentor and gave him a quick hug.  “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Go on, Honey,” he turned her around and sent her running for the train as the Engine released its brakes. The labored chug of the steam started to ease it forward even as she took the trainman’s hand. 

Winry stepped up into the car and turned to wave. 

Garfiel blew her a kiss as the car pulled past the water tower.

The conductor tapped on Winry’s shoulder and indicated with his hand that she should precede him as he showed her into the car and the small private berth that had been saved for her.  He took her ticket and snapped off the stub with the precision that comes from years of practice, and returned it to her.  “Please allow me,” he said reaching up and helping her get her case into the overhead rack.

“Doctor Rockbell is it?”  He asked

“I–yes,” she wondered how he knew her name.

“It was on your ticket, Doctor.  I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He said.  “I understand from the station manager that you’re on your way to a patient in Central.”

“He–yes,” she wondered how long it would take before she stopped trying to correct people.

“Is he very ill then?”

“I understand that he is, yes,” Winry answered wondering where this was leading.

The trainman must have read the confusion on her face.  “My apologies, ma’am.  The station manager is an old friend.  I’m originally from Rush Valley.  He was telling me that he’s had reports all morning about a derailed train closer to Central on this line.  The noon train you were scheduled for was cancelled because this one is likely to be delayed because of that.  That was why Jack got you on this one, but perhaps he didn’t take the time to explain it since it was such short notice.”

“No,” Winry answered with a wry grin, “but he didn’t have much chance.  I only spoke to him for a moment before Mr. Garfiel took the phone from me and told him I would be here on time.”

“I see,” the man chuckled, “he’s an odd duck that Mr. Garfiel, but I have always been told he was a good man, even so.”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Well,” the trainman put his hands together. “We hope that the delay at Granas Station won’t be too long. I understand that by some miracle nobody was really hurt, but the rail separated, and each car as it came off turned and slid across both sets of tracks.  It seems the weather is pretty foul up there.  It’s making it difficult work to clear it.  Perhaps they’ll have everything squared away by the time we get there tomorrow. We’ll find out in a few hours when we make our next stop.”

* * *

 

**Date:** 06.Dec.19 - Saturday  
 **Time:** 14:22  
 **Location:** Raston Station

“Miss?” 

Winry blinked blearily at the conductor who had shaken her shoulder gently to wake her.  She sat up blinking at him.  “Yes?  What is it?”

“We’ve stopped at Raston Station.”

Winry blinked at him uncomprehending for a moment.

“We’re stopping for half an hour Doctor Rockbell.  So people can contact their families and so on about the delay.  If you’d like to call and check on your patient.  Also, unfortunately the news about the wreck above Granas isn’t particularly encouraging.  They have perhaps fifty percent of it cleared. But the weather is terrible.  Both lines of track need repairs that can’t be started until the weather breaks a bit and they’re estimating two days to complete.  Granas will be our last stop for a while.  You may want to let them know.”

“But…” Winry stared at the man. Edward needed her.  How could the train just stop and leave her stranded in some little town somewhere?

“Listen, the line will pay for your hotel until we can run the rest of the way to Central.  But Granas is only a couple of hours driving from Central most of the time.  This weather will make it more difficult, but maybe someone could come down and get you by car?  If you call ahead now, maybe they can plan it so they can be in Granas by the time we get there tomorrow?”


	7. Let Me Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Edward Elric seriously ill with an infection in his shoulder socket awakens at General Mustang's house confused by a high fever. Thinking himself back in those days when he was 15 and his brother still trapped within the armor, Edward assumes he's been drugged and starts trying to escape until his brother returns from some errands and finds him outside trying to fight with a disconcerted Mustang. After a few moments, Edward starts to come out of the fugue, but he's still having real issues.
> 
> _"Alphonse?" Edward took a step towards him, evidently a bit dubious of what he was seeing. "Why am I out here?" Another of those awful wrenching coughs almost doubled him over for a moment; his hand came away from his mouth covered in blood. He tried to wipe it off on his shirt, but another bout splattered the snow with red droplets even as he fought to control it. His expression had cleared when he looked up again. He knew where he was, and he knew he was in trouble. "Al… I can't breathe." He stumbled, gasping now as Alphonse caught him. "I feel like I can't breathe!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Meanwhile:** Winry leaves Rush Valley in a hurry, on the last train out before the rail is closed due to the severe weather further north, only to discover that her train will not be able to get her all the way to Central after all.
> 
> _"We're stopping for half an hour Doctor Rockbell. So people can contact their families and so on about the delay. If you'd like to call and check on your patient. Also, unfortunately the news about the wreck above Granas isn't particularly encouraging. They have perhaps fifty percent of it cleared. But the weather is terrible. Both lines of track need repairs that can't be started until the weather breaks a bit and they're estimating two days to complete. Granas will be our last stop for a while. You may want to let them know."_
> 
> _"But…" Winry stared at the man. Edward needed her. How could the train just stop and leave her stranded in some little town somewhere?_

**Date:** 06.Dec.19 - Saturday  
 **Time:** 14:19  
 **Location:** Central City - Home of General Roy Mustang

Small things crept into Edward’s state of consciousness as he floated to the surface.  The coolness of the floor under his shoulder, his arm, and the back of his hand lying in front of him on the hardwood. Cold towels packed around his neck and chest.  The shift of the leg upon which his head was resting.  His brother’s scent in the course cotton fabric under his cheek.  The taste of sweet horehound in his mouth.  The gentle, but firm motion of that same brother’s hand soothing up and down his aching back.

The dreams had been terrible, but they were gone now.  Nothing here to startle him.  Nothing to worry about. Other than that his shoulder hurt abominably.  There was a warm wet stroke across the palm of his hand.  He had to open his eyes to identify that. Small brown eyes stared back at him; a long-nosed tawny-gold face tipped a little to one side.

“Ralph, no.” Alphonse's voice roused Edward more than any of the sensations or even the light touch his dog’s cold nose on his forehead.  “Leave him alone.”

“He’s ok.” Edward mumbled around the horehound stick.  He sucked on it for a moment wondering what was wrong with his voice.  He took the sweet out of his mouth so he could ask.  “What happened Al?” The soft clump of shoes against the hardwood approached from behind him.

Alphonse reached across and took the candy before Edward had a chance to drop it on the hardwood. “I’m not sure, Brother.  You had some kind of fugue or seizure or something,” he said.  Edward felt another cool cloth laid on him, this time across his furrowed brow.  “Do you know where you are now?” His brother asked.

“Yah…” he lifted his hand again, let Ralph lick it, then ruffled a golden ear while he glanced around. He let his hand fall to the floor, out of energy for the moment. “Mustang’s house…what happened Al?”

“I don’t know, Brother.  I think your fever spiked… We're trying to get it down more now... and maybe the medication confused you a little too.”

“The doctor will be here shortly Alphonse,” the owner of said house offered before Edward could ask anything else.  “Do you want to put him to bed now?”

“Thank you Chairman,” Alphonse seemed to consider it.  “I think it would be better to let him rest here for a few minutes.  Moving him might aggravate the feedback.”

Edward felt his brother’s hand stop rubbing. He missed the comfort it gave him, but rather than wait for it to resume, he pushed himself over onto his back so he could look up into his brother’s face.  Mustang stood behind Alphonse, dabbing gingerly at a fresh bruise.  The cut across Mustang’s cheekbone robbed Edward of speech, but only for a moment.  “My God! What happened?” he demanded trying to sit up. Then the realization hit him. “What the hell did I do?”

“Be still Ed!” Alphonse tried to push him back down. "You didn't know what you were doing."

Edward wouldn’t have it.  “It looks to me like I knew enough to know which side he's blind on Al!"  He yelled hoarsely while his brother supported him.  He hated to admit needing the help. "What the hell happened, Roy?”  His ears started to ring.  His breath came in a harsh gasp that he didn’t understand.

“What this?” Mustang grinned and pointed at his wound and chuckled.  “Isn’t it obvious? I failed to defend myself against a flying steel arm.”

Edward stared at him.  He might have had a retort for the sarcastic bastard if his chest had not suddenly clenched into a burning agony of coughing that left him reeling.  He heard his brother talking to him, firm hands forcing him to lie back down on his side while he struggled for air.  He fought to stop the cough he couldn’t control, and all the while, the world slipped farther away from him.

* * *

 **Date:** 06.Dec.19 - Saturday  
T **ime:** 14:25  
 **Location:** Central City - Home of General Roy Mustang

“Ed?”  That was Alphonse’s voice cutting through the whine in his head.  “Just keep still, ok?” The firm hand was soothing his back again.  He knew he was fading in and out.  He kept finding things different, but couldn't remember when they had changed.

At first he was still coughing a little.  Then he wasn't.  There was the coldness of a thermometer glass in his mouth.  The thermometer was a horehound stick now. Only he didn’t remember them being switched.  The horehound was soothing too.  He liked it.  Then he didn’t like it so well after all.  It was sweeter than he wanted it to be. It wasn’t sweet enough.  It couldn’t drown out the taste of iron and the combination was enough to gag him.  What seemed to the next instant, the horehound was gone, replaced with the slightly bitter taste of arnica.  Then he was out again he thought, complete with strange disorienting visions.  He was aware that they were dreams, but he couldn't quite drag himself free of them.

Footsteps moved around him.  He got his eyes open this time.  Enough to see the owner of the shoes crouch down and wipe the floor in front of him. “I threw up?” He mumbled around the half-dissolved tablets still in his mouth. He was sure Alphonse must have stuffed half the bottle in there.  Now his head was a little clearer.  Now he could think straighter.

“Don’t try to talk now Brother,” Alphonse’s warm hand stroked down his back over and over.  His other arm cradled Edward’s aching head comfortably against his knee.

Edward tried to listen to his brother.  It was about four seconds before he forgot again that he wasn’t supposed to talk with his mouth full.  “Sorry I made a mess.” he mumbled to Mustang.

“Never mind,” Mustang gave the floor one last swipe. Edward half cringed when his former superior reached over and ruffled his bangs. The contact made him aware of the cloth Alphonse was holding against his forehead.  Mustang left off the tousle by pushing his hair back away from his face.  “Don’t worry about it Fullmetal.  Just keep still like your brother told you.”

* * *

**Date:** 06.Dec.19 - Saturday  
 **Time:** 14:34 **  
Location:** Central City - Home of General Roy Mustang

Edward slept in his brother’s arms for a few minutes as Roy sat on his heels watching over them.  He got up when the boy started shivering patting Alphonse’s shoulder lightly as he passed.  This was Roy’s fault.  He should not have left Edward alone.  At the very least he could have taken half a moment to check on him.  Knowing how hot he’d been last night, he should have checked on him, made sure his fever was staying down.  He walked into the living room and picked up the quilt Edward had been lying under before.  How he could have been so negligent escaped him.  Just a few seconds-a touch to the boy’s face-would have told him enough to prevent Edward some of today’s suffering.  Or he may have awakened just as confused and frightened, he reminded himself as he returned to the back of the house.

“If you don’t want to move him, maybe we’ve got the fever down enough now that he can have a blanket,” he suggested to Alphonse, his voice barely above a whisper.”

“Yes sir,” The youngest had already removed all the cooling towels now before Edward got too cold.  Only the one on his forehead remained.  He and Roy spread the quilt. Edward remained asleep, but his hand took the edge and pulled it tighter around himself, mumbling incoherently.  Ralph apparently happy to see the quilt being employed, trotted over and settled himself comfortably against the boy’s chest.  Edward’s hand almost immediately, released the edge of the quilt and came to rest at the base of his dog’s neck, his face still a bit pained, but more relaxed now.  Obviously bringing the dog over had been a good choice, Roy decided, even if he hadn’t made all the right ones, Ralph had been a good one.

“The doctor should be here any minute now,” The older man noted.  “He said he was coming straight away 15 minutes ago.”

Alphonse nodded.  He looked exhausted with worry. “The roads have gotten pretty bad, sir.” He flipped the cloth on Edward’s head “That was what took me so long to get back.   Of course, I’m not really used to driving in such weather.  I hope it doesn’t take very much longer, though.”  He stroked his brother’s back and side through the quilt.

Edward flinched visibly when the phone rang, but he didn’t open his eyes until it rang a second time.

“Hopefully that’s _not_ him.” Roy frowned, getting to his feet again.  “Don’t worry, if he’s having trouble I’ll go get him.” He reached down and mussed Alphonse’s hair as he went by.

At first his greeting went unanswered, but just as he was about to give it again, a quiet voice spoke up on the other end. “Um… Mr. Mustang?” Winry Rockbell.

The conversation was equally hesitant.  Partly, he suspected, because there seemed to be a lot of noise on the line.  Or perhaps it was in the background.  As, she explained the situation with the train though, he also had a good idea that it had to do with having to ask him for help.

“It’s all right Miss Rockbell,” he assured her. “I’ll take care of your arrangements from Granas.  You don’t need to worry about anything.  When you get to the station walk up to Granas Main Hotel.  It’s only a couple of blocks, so you won’t have to worry about trying to get a cab in the press.  I’ll have a room there ready for you whether you need it or not.  It’ll get you out of the crowd at the station, and out of the cold, and that’s where I’ll pick you up.  The Main’s a decent place. They'll send porters for your luggage. So if you have more than your carry on, just leave it there for them.  If I'm not there waiting for you, just get some rest if you can.  Sit tight and be patient. I'll do my best not to keep you waiting,” he added as he walked in to where Alphonse and Edward were.  “I’ll let you talk to Alphonse for a few minutes, and then I’ll make the calls for you. Just a moment.”

Alphonse took the phone from him, Edward's bleary eyes following it over his head and then closing.  He seemed more inclined to sleep than listen to a conversation that was sure to be about him. “Winry?” The younger brother asked.  “Sorry the connection isn’t very good, Winry, the weather’s pretty bad." A pause while Alphonse listened.  "Yes, I think that's probably why." The conversation continued, Alphonse explaining briefly what had happened with Edward.  Then for a while, Alphonse almost sounded like he was being interrogated.  Finally, he sighed. “I don’t know if you’ll get much out of him yet, Winry.  He’s really not feeling very well right now.”

Ed sighed softly and opened his eyes when his younger brother touched his shoulder.

“Can you talk to her Ed?” She’s kind of worried.

* * *

 **Date:** 07.Dec.19 - Sunday  
 **Time:** 17:18  
 **Location:** Granas Main Hotel - Room 215

Winry stepped through the door to her suite as the porter opened it for her.   The suite had two small rooms, but nothing too extravagant. It was more than she had expected.  She followed the porter into the sleeping room, and watched as he unloaded her luggage at the foot of the simple iron bed.  It looked comfortable and she sat down on it.  Maybe she could get a little nap in before the car from Central arrived for her.  Her hand stroked the bedspread.

“Miss,” The porter brought her attention back to the moment as he set down her last bag. “I know you’re probably tired, but this room was requested for you specifically.  You have your own bath.”  He walked over and pushed open another door she hadn’t noticed as she came in. “I see the maid has already brought in soaps and towels for you,” he added with a slight bow clearly preparing to leave her.

Winry thanked him and put a couple of bills in his hand.  She sat back on the bed for a moment, hardly even aware that he had gone.  “My own bath huh?” She hadn’t expected that at all, but she may as well take advantage of it. Given look of the roads buried in more snow than it looked like they were used to handling, it seemed likely that she’d have waited for her ride even if the train had pulled in at its scheduled time rather than fully two hours early.  A nap was definitely in order.  The bed looked so clean, though, it seemed a sin to get into it after a day and a half on the train. She pulled herself off the mattress tiredly. She felt so filthy. 

Before long she was soaking up to her chin in hot bubbly water, her hair freshly washed, her skin clean and her sore muscles so much more relaxed.  Real contentment eluded her though.  Worry over Edward haunted her.  He’d been sick with these sockets several times, but never so seriously since he’d been home.  Still she wished she’d pressed him more about getting it fixed. Alphonse had told her how sick he’d gotten a few weeks after they had re-crossed the gate together.  It was no wonder.  His ports had been a disaster.  She hadn’t had time to fix much of anything, and he hadn’t had time to work with his new limbs at all before he had to use them as if he’d had them all his life.  If the prosthetics she had replaced for Edward were any indication of the state of medical science over there, it was no wonder he’d had trouble.

According to Alphonse early yesterday morning, Dr. Sheridan had already noted that Ed’s lymph nodes in his neck and jaw were affected.  And later in the day, when she had called from Raston, what Edward’s younger brother had told her--even if he’d tried to gloss it over--really sounded like the infection was getting into Edward’s blood. As if he wasn’t suffering enough, now he must be utterly miserable with fever and sickness. 

Her conversation with Edward had been heart rending.  He could barely answer her, so she had just talked to him, tried to reassure him and instill in him very firmly his need to rest and listen to his brother and the doctor until she got there.  She didn’t know how much he had heard.  His responses were mumbled and then the phone had rattled noisily for a moment before Alphonse had picked it up apologetically explaining that Edward had fallen asleep again and dropped it before he could catch it.

She hoped Alphonse understood how important it was for him to follow her instructions about that socket.  She had tried to call when she had arrived here, but she hadn’t been able to get the call through.  Winry sat up in the water, and rinsed her face again before she pulled the plug and stepped out of the elegant claw-foot tub onto the plush rug to dry off and dress in the gown that Garfiel had thankfully reminded her to pack.

As she slid her bare feet between the sheets, Winry found the bed was every bit as comfortable as it had looked. She tugged her damp hair over her shoulder and braided it loosely.  She didn’t expect to sleep as worried as she was, but she would try anyway.  At the very least lying down for even the hour or so she could, would be a comfort after so many hours on the train.

A knock on her door made her realize that she had dozed off.  She pulled herself from sleep, and went to the door with her coat pulled over her nightgown. She kept her toes braced against the door she cracked open, one of her big heavy leg wrenches in her hand until she saw that it was the same porter who had brought her gear up to her room for her.  “Yes?” she asked.

“Ah…” the porter seemed embarrassed for a moment. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you if you were sleeping, Miss, but you have a… a visitor.  You said you were waiting for transportation to Central?  So I thought you’d want to know.”

* * *

 **Date:** 07.Dec.19 - Sunday  
 **Time:** 22:36  
 **Location:** Granas Main Hotel - Lobby

“Mr. Mustang?”  Winry asked in disbelief as she approached the man the concierge pointed out to her. His back had been towards her, as he stood reading a newspaper, but she thought she would recognize him anywhere. She hadn’t thought the former general would come after her himself. He looked tired even before he turned around, and she almost felt bad to have kept him waiting for her while she dressed and repacked the one bag she’d opened.

“Ah, Miss Rockbell,” he said, a smile greeted her, though his face was haggard. The bruise on his left cheek was more livid than she had expected.  There was also a bandage partially covering a scraping cut.  Edward must have hit his former commander harder than Alphonse had implied.  No wonder he was worried that the Automail might be beyond repair now.  The scars around the chairman’s eye were more marked as well, while his normally fair skin seemed washed out. “Are you ready? I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“No, it’s all right,” Winry assured him.  “I am hearing that the roads are very bad between here and Central City.  It allowed me to get a few hours sleep too.  But you look exhausted Mr. Mustang.  Maybe it would be better if you slept a little before we go.  The rooms a suite, so…”

“Thanks for offering, but I think we ought to go ahead. The last hour or so the roads have been a little better. They’re starting to get tractors out to clear the main roads.” He gave a soft laugh. “You know, it’s not like we never get snow here.  This was enough that they’ve really had trouble keeping up with it.  It was at least knee deep when I left the house this morning.  But it’s finally stopped.”

“This morning?” she asked surprised. It was nearly eleven at night now “What time did you leave?  How long were you driving?”

“Oh,” he seemed to calculate “Maybe 9 hours driving?  I stopped to rest and eat around five.” He waved a hand in nonchalant dismissal.  “I could definitely stand a cup of coffee though”

“Coffee?” Winry ground her teeth.  _These men!_ She swore they’d all drive her crazy. “Geeze!” she caught the porter’s eye, and pointed up the elevator she’d come down and then at the floor next to her. The porter nodded his understanding and headed up the stairs for her luggage.  “Give me your keys, Mustang!” she demanded.  “I’ve slept. I’m driving!”

The General opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off.

“Oh! You’ve decided that you’d like to have me build you a few replacement limbs soon?” she snapped.  “Well let me just tell you won’t be getting the kind of high level prototype equipment Edward gets from me. And especially not if I have to build my own damned gear first because of another stubborn man.”

She watched Mustang back up a step his hands raised defensively, as if he still thought he might have a valid argument. 

So she raised her voice. “Forget it!  Give me the keys.  I’m driving.” She presented her hand, fully expecting the man in front of her to follow her instructions.  He did so.  Almost meekly, and she snatched them from him and stuffed them into her pocketbook.  “Geeze!”


	8. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Edward Elric ill with an automail infection in his shoulder socket is weaker after a bad episode of fever in which he became so confused that he thought he was being held prisoner somewhere and tried to “escape” from General Mustang's house. He awakens on the floor at General Mustang’s house with his brother and Mustang watching over him. Winry calls during that time and explains that she is going to be stranded in Granas, some distance south of Central due to a train wreck caused by the foul weather. Roy volunteers to drive down to get her. When he arrives, exhausted, but prepared to go straight back, Winry insists on driving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Oh! You’ve decided that you’d like to have me build you a few replacement limbs soon?” she snapped. “Well let me just tell you won’t be getting the kind of high level prototype equipment Edward gets from me. And especially not if I have to build my own damned gear first because of another stubborn man.”_
> 
> _She watched Mustang back up a step his hands raised defensively, as if he still thought he might have a valid argument._
> 
> _So she raised her voice. “Forget it! Give me the keys. I’m driving.” She presented her hand, fully expecting the man in front of her to follow her instructions. He did so. Almost meekly, and she snatched them from him and stuffed them into her pocketbook. “Geeze!”_

**Date:** 08.Dec.19 - Monday  
 **Time:** 03:18  
 **Location:** Central City - Home of General Roy Mustang

“Al?”

At first the younger brother didn't really fully register his name being called. Edward's voice was so quiet and hoarse now.  He didn't have the strength to project it.

“Alphonse...” a soft moan accompanied the call this time, and fingers buried themselves in the younger man's hair.

“What is it, Brother?” he asked, lifting his face off of his arm.   Alphonse hadn't meant to fall asleep, especially not in such an awkward position at the side of Edward’s bed.  He took his brother's limp hand for a moment. It was cold and it trembled slightly. “Are you feeling sick again?” He reached for the basin he’d had to keep close at hand all night and most of the day before.

“No,” Edward breathed tiredly. “Not right now.  I'm okay.  What time is it Al?” he cleared his throat, seemingly with great care. “What day?”

Alphonse hated how disoriented his brother sounded.  He asked the same questions almost every time he woke, and often wanted to know where he was and what had happened.  “It’s–” he glanced at Edward’s watch lying open on the bedside table, “a little after three in the morning Brother.” He said, brushing Edward’s bangs back so he could touch the pale clammy face beneath.  He’d been sleeping for nearly four hours, which meant Edward might have slept nearly that long too.  He supposed that was a good thing.  They both needed the rest.  “So it’s early Monday now,” he added.

Edward’s face was cool.  Too cool, Alphonse thought.  He shook down the thermometer, and after a moment of weak protest, got it under his brother’s tongue.  Edward grumbled softly, his listless eyes roaming around the room before they closed again, a shiver racking him. If it wasn’t fever, then it was this.  Edward’s body wasn’t regulating its own temperature very well at all.  Winry had warned Alphonse about it, or he wouldn’t have even known to check when Edward felt cool.  He might have just assumed the fever was down and that everything was fine.

The younger man pulled another quilt over his brother.  He fished Ralph out from under it, much to the dog's delight as he emerged from the tunnel with tail wagging energetically and eyes bright. Normally, the saying that the dog reflected the man was pretty accurate with regards to Edward and his pet. Alphonse found himself wishing it were true today.  Edward could certainly use some of Ralph's energy.  _Maybe I ought to take the fact that Ralph doesn't seem particularly worried about Edward as some reassurance_.  He told himself.  The dog had been quiet and unobtrusive whenever he hopped up on the bed with Edward, but he did not insist on being there all the time, or seem to need extra attention.  _He's not exactly the brightest dog I've ever met, but would he really be so happy if Brother were really in trouble?_   He smiled and gave Ralph's ears a rumpling.  He noted a slight smile from his brother as the dog plopped back down against his back.  If nothing else, having Ralph with him gave Edward a little comfort.  Alphonse leaned over to the wall and opened the valve on the radiator again.  If Edward couldn’t keep himself warm, he’d have to help him by keeping the room warmer, even if it was uncomfortable.

“I think I might have to miss my class tomorrow,” Edward mumbled as Alphonse took the thermometer. “I feel like shit.”

“Classes are cancelled Ed.  Because of the weather, remember?  They probably will be all week.”  Alphonse didn’t even bother trying to explain it any further.  Even if they hadn’t been there was no ‘think’ about it. Edward was not teaching his class on Tuesday.  He was probably too disoriented to remember what was going on.  His temperature wasn’t as low as it could have been, but it wasn’t up to normal either.  He tucked the blankets in tighter.  “I’m sorry you still feel so bad, Brother,” he said pushing the bangs back from Edward’s face again.  “If you don’t feel like you’ll throw up, why don’t you take a little water and try to sleep some more?”

Edward agreed wordlessly, and drank from the glass Alphonse held for him before settling back onto the pillow.  The gold eyes closed, but after a moment they opened and met his brother’s.  “You look like hell,” he mumbled.

“Thanks, Brother,” Alphonse smirked, putting his hand on top of Edward’s head for a moment.  “I’d return the compliment, except that it would be such a terrible understatement.”

That earned a soft snort, and the eyes closed again.  “Al,” he said after a minute.

“What is it Ed?”

“You better get some sleep.”

“I’m fine, Brother,” he said softly.  He smoothed Edward’s hair.  “How’s your pain?”

Edward grunted softly.  “Sucks…”

“You should take your pills now while your stomach is a little more settled.”

The response was another quiet grumble. Alphonse knew Edward didn’t want to try to take them.  Dr. Sheridan had arrived on Saturday while Winry had still been on the phone with them.  After talking with her, they had decided to give Edward his pain medicine and a mild tranquilizer by injection to try to get control of the nerve feedback and help him rest.  The medicine made him sleepy.  He was often confused, shaky, and almost constantly sick to his stomach, but he had been able to rest more.  The benefit had seemed to outweigh his other discomforts for a while, so the dose had been continued that way most of the next day.

“Didn’t I already get a shot?”

Alphonse thought this was probably an attempt to sidestep the suggestion rather than legitimate confusion now. “No, Brother,” he sighed patiently.  “Those were just the small ones around the socket for the infection,” He stroked his brother’s side, and earned himself a visit from Ralph’s head from behind Edward, as he raised it to insist on being petted for a moment too.

Alphonse rolled his eyes despite himself.  All Sunday afternoon whenever he was coherent enough to say so, Edward had insisted that the shots were all that was wrong with him.  He wanted to go back to his pills, and promised he would take them without argument.  The doctor had finally agreed when Edward had started to show signs of worsening dehydration.  He hadn’t kept anything down for more than a couple of hours since sometime Friday. There was no doubt that his stomach had become increasingly irritated.  The nausea had been so incorrigible by Sunday afternoon, that he could barely get a sip of water down, and then couldn’t keep it down more than a few minutes. 

Alphonse wasn’t so sure Edward’s subsequent improvement didn’t have more to do the passage of time, rest, and the significant reduction in feedback issues. Either way, he was going to loose ground again if he didn’t take his pills as he had promised.  Alphonse decided he’d better try to press the issue even if it meant humoring him some. “I don’t know either Edward,” he pretended to sympathize, “But you’d still have pills to take anyway. So let's get it over with.”

“I really think some of them are just making me worse, Al.”

“Ed!” Alphonse voice was sharper than he meant it to be, but this was becoming frustrating, and even if he didn’t want to admit it, he was tired and worried.  It was hard to be patient. “You promised not to argue about this before Dr. Sheridan left.

“I just want to see what Winry thinks, ok?”

“I don’t know when she’s going to get here, Brother, and I can’t let you skip doses while we wait for her.”

Edward blinked at his brother. “What?” his eyes widened “but I remember talking to her just a little while ago.” His only hand came up out of the blankets to rub his face.  “I’m sure I did…” He trailed off, looking to Alphonse for reassurance. “…Didn't I?”

“No, Ed.  She was on the phone, and it was Saturday afternoon, before the Chairman left to pick her up.”

“What?” Edward’s bewilderment was genuine, but Alphonse had already explained it several times. Edward’s concept of time over the last couple of days was terrible.  Logically, he knew it was due to his older brother’s illness, and the medications keeping him asleep and disoriented for most of the last two days.  Emotionally, it was getting more difficult to deal with, as Alphonse grew more exhausted.  Edward was right.  He needed rest too. 

“Oh…” Edward tried to grin as he remembered, but it fell short.  “How long ago did he leave?”

“Quite a while ago, Brother, but the weather is bad.  The roads are terrible, so they have to be careful, and I have no idea when to expect them.  It should be soon, but in the mean time you have to take your pills now.”  He rubbed his eyes tiredly without meaning to. He caught himself, but Edward had already seen him.

“You need sleep.  You’re exhausted,” he observed.

Alphonse dropped his hand, and raised his head, but the expression on the pale face watching from the bed was clear.  Edward knew he was right, and as long as he was lucid, trying to deny it would be pointless.  “I am, Ed.  I’m very tired, but you can’t be left alone.  Especially if you won’t take your medicine,” He emphasized. “You could spike another fever and get confused, or get too cold, or half a dozen other things.”

“You’re too tired, Al.  You’re gonna make yourself sick too.”

“Well, someone has to be with you, Ed, and there is no one else to sit with you right now,” Alphonse repeated, slapping his hand on the edge of the bed in his frustration. “Now are you going to take your stupid pills or waste energy you don’t have arguing with me about it again?  Please Ed… I’m too tired to fight with you, and besides you promised you wouldn’t, remember?”

Edward sighed softly.  “I’m sorry Al.  You’re right.  I promised.  _Scheisse_ … I just can’t keep my head straight…” he laid his one hand on his brother’s. “I’ll take them… if you promise you’ll get some rest then.”

“I… ok.” Alphonse agreed quickly before his older brother could rethink that compromise. He reached for the first bottle of pills on the bedside table.  After Edward had finished with his medicines, Alphonse rose and walked around the bed.  He resettled Ralph in front of his brother, where he would be in reach of Edward’s left hand for petting, which occurred almost immediately.

Edward grumbled when he felt Alphonse stretch out behind him. “I didn’t mean–”

“Someone has to stay with you, Brother,” Alphonse interrupted with the reminder. He didn’t want to give Edward a chance to argue about it any further.  He was tired, and he might have a chance to sleep a little without worry if his brother’s stomach would just stay settled for a while.

A soft snort acknowledged Alphonse’s statement.  Clearly Edward didn’t like to admit the truth, and was determined to at least have the last word.  “At least get under the covers then.  I’m freezing to death!  I don’t know how you can be so warm.”

 **Date:** 08.Dec.19 - Monday  
 **Time:** 07:11  
 **Location:** Central City - Home of General Roy Mustang

“I think I’m dying Al.”

The frightening thing was that Alphonse felt like the statement went beyond his brother's usual bitching.  Edward believed what he was saying as the younger brother settled him back into the pillows.  He was so weak already, and another bout of sickness had left him shaking and exhausted.  It must not be hard for him to believe it.  “You’re not dying, Brother,” he tried to reassure him.  It was difficult enough to keep positive without Edward saying such things.  His sunken eyes had so little life in them, though they followed Alphonse around the room, as if they were afraid to miss their last look at him.  His voice was barely more than a whisper.  Edward’s strength was gone, like some monster had drained it from him.

Alphonse rubbed his eyes.  He had managed to doze very little before Edward had become too restless, his temperature rising and going into fever again.  He had the idea that the radical hot and cold swings must be such an awful shock to Edward's system.  It had to be taxing his brother's energy as much as the violence of his sickness. The arnica had run out hours earlier and he'd been bringing in a bucket of clean snow for the icebox whenever he took the dogs outside.  It was all he had left to chill the water for the compress he laid on Edward's hot forehead. The irony that the iceman had not delivered all weekend because of the icy roads was not lost on Alphonse.

Normally in winter Central City's iceboxes didn't need filling as often, but Alphonse knew the chairman had put the ice card in the window on Saturday, and none had come yet.  He didn't dare chip any more off the block as long as he could use snow.  The phone was still out of service.  He knew because he wanted to ask Dr. Sheridan to come and look at Edward again, but there was no signal.  With the phone out, he had no idea when more ice would be delivered, nor any way of finding out.  He was afraid to leave his brother alone even for a short while, or he would have gone for the doctor himself.  He could have done that if Winry and the Chairman were here, though it occurred to him that he really wanted Winry more than the other Doctor anyway.  They weren't though, and he had no way of knowing how long they would still be. Taking the car to go and buy a new block of ice was really just out of the question.  He didn't dare leave Edward alone after what had already happened.  So he used clean snow to cool Edward's compresses, and only chipped at the block to give his brother flakes of ice to suck on when he was too sick to drink.

“Al...” Edward sounded out of breath.

The hoarse call brought Alphonse out of the circular turmoil of his thoughts.  He sat next to Edward, his hand pressing the cold cloth to the older man's face.  “It's all right, Brother.”

“Do you think we could have them do the signing here today? I don't think I can make it to Wednesday.”

“Ed…” Alphonse couldn't count the number of times his brother had brought up the house.  It seemed to vex him something awful.

“I'm serious Al,” he went on tiredly.  “It's important.  I want that house signed for, so it can go to you without any questions.”

“That's not necessary, Brother,” Alphonse tried again, struggling to keep his voice even. He wouldn't give in to the knot in his throat.  “Why won't you believe me when I tell you that it's just the medication.  You'll be fine!”  He stopped when his voice cracked and tried to get a grip on himself.  He took a breath, but it did little to calm him.  He was too tired.  Why did Edward insist on continuing to talk like this.  He had to know it was distressing.  Alphonse's next words came at nearly a shout. “You better not talk like that when Winry gets here!” he cried his fists opening and closing in front of him. He bared his teeth, clenching his jaw to keep from saying any more.

“Oh good,” Edward mumbled, his eyes wandering towards the window across the room.  “I hope she gets here soon, Alphonse,” he continued dreamily.  “I'd like to see her one more time before I go.”

Alphonse's frayed nerves couldn't take any more. “STOP SAYING THAT!” He sobbed, gripping the blanket in his hands.  His brother's preoccupation with death was starting to alarm him.  People could talk themselves into things, and it sounded to Alphonse like Edward was talking himself right out of his own life. “Please Edward, stop it…” He gasped for more air, unable to continue.  He could feel the hot tears on his face and dashed them away.  It didn't do any good. His distress had him now.  He was so tired.  He clenched his hands in the blankets and buried his face as well, ashamed of his own hysteria, but powerless to stop it.

He felt Edward's hand on his head. “It'll be all right Alphonse,” the hand buried itself in Alphonse's hair. “Don't cry Al, ok?” he went on breathily.  “I don't want you to cry over me like this.”

Alphonse lifted his face out of Edward's quilt and grasped Edward's hand in his.  He hiccuped, trying to regain his composure.  He didn't want to shout at his brother any more. He knew Edward just didn't know what he was saying. He was sick and miserable, and the medication was confusing him.  He wished he could call Doctor Sheridan, or Winry.  Anyone he could talk to right now would help.  Anyone other than Edward.  Alphonse hated himself for thinking it, but Edward was convinced he was dying, and Alphonse who should have known better was starting to believe him too. He was starting to feel a desperate need for someone to refute him.  So desperate in fact that he kept thinking he heard a car turn into the drive, and kept getting up to look.  This time, he hesitated, but after a moment he was sure he heard the crunch of gravel and ice under tires in the driveway.

“I think someone is here,” he said, jumping up from the chair, dropping his brother's hand.  He hurried to the window to see.  “Someone's here, Brother!” he repeated, rubbing at his face, trying to remove any trace of the weakness of his tears.  He couldn't tell by the car, even after the headlights were out, in the dim light it could have been the car Roy had requisitioned, or it could have been Dr. Sheridan's which was similar.  He wasn't sure which he hoped for more at this moment.  He watched until someone stepped out where he could see who had arrived. “Oh thank goodness!” he mumbled.  He nearly collapsed with relief, stumbling back across the room to sit in his chair next to Edward.  He flipped the compress on his brother's forehead.  “Thank God…” he sighed, and seeing that his brother was as settled as could be expected, Alphonse went downstairs to open the door.


	9. When She Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Edward Elric ill with an automail infection in his shoulder socket is struggling with fever and other symptoms of shock. Alphonse has been watching over him alone since General Mustang left to drive Winry the rest of the way to Central from Granas. Alphonse is becoming exhausted, and frustrated with his brother because much to his alarm, Edward seems to have decided that he is dying, and keeps asking Alphonse to help him get his affairs settled. Finally, in the early morning, Alphonse nearly sick with worry himself hears someone pull up outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **From the Last Chapter:**   
>  _Alphonse lifted his face out of Edward's quilt and grasped Edward's hand in his. He hiccuped, trying to regain his composure. He didn't want to shout at his brother any more. He knew Edward just didn't know what he was saying. He was sick and miserable, and the medication was confusing him. He wished he could call Doctor Sheridan, or Winry. Anyone he could talk to right now would help. Anyone other than Edward. Alphonse hated himself for thinking it, but Edward was convinced he was dying, and Alphonse who should have known better was starting to believe him too. He was starting to feel a desperate need for someone to refute him. So desperate in fact that he kept thinking he heard a car turn into the drive, and kept getting up to look. This time, he hesitated, but after a moment he was sure he heard the crunch of gravel and ice under tires in the driveway._
> 
> _"I think someone is here," he said, jumping up from the chair, dropping his brother's hand. He hurried to the window to see. "Someone's here, Brother!" he repeated, rubbing at his face, trying to remove any trace of the weakness of his tears. He couldn't tell by the car, even after the headlights were out, in the dim light it could have been the car Roy had requisitioned, or it could have been Dr. Sheridan's which was similar. He wasn't sure which he hoped for more at this moment. He watched until someone stepped out where he could see who had arrived. "Oh thank goodness!" he mumbled. He nearly collapsed with relief, stumbling back across the room to sit in his chair next to Edward. He flipped the compress on his brother's forehead. "Thank God…" he sighed, and seeing that his brother was as settled as could be expected, Alphonse went downstairs to open the door._

**Date:** 08.Dec.19 - Monday  
 **Time:** 07:24  
 **Location:** Central City - Home of General Roy Mustang

"Alphonse…" Winry stepped through the door as the younger brother opened it for her.  "Oh…" His face spoke volumes of distress and exhaustion.  She drew him into her arms for a moment; hardly failing to notice how much taller he was now.  Of course, even Edward was taller than she was now; at least by a little bit.  How it must irk him for his little brother to have half a head in height on him.  "You look really wiped out, Al," Winry said, pushing back from him and giving him a more thorough look before pulling him into the living room out of Mr. Mustang’s way.

"I’ll bring your bags upstairs in a minute, Miss… Doctor Rockbell," Mustang told her, his normally smooth voice sounding a bit rough around the edges.  He nodded toward the stairs, as he set her luggage in the entry.  "I’m sure you’re anxious to see Fullmetal.  Just leave them there for now," he added, going back outside.

Winry nodded her acknowledgement to the older man, her attention still on the younger one. "Your eyes are red.  You haven’t had any sleep?"  She was sure it was more than just a lack of sleep.  Alphonse looked like he was on the tail end of an emotional meltdown.  "Edward’s been difficult."  Winry made it a statement of fact.  Edward was always difficult.

"I don’t like to leave him alone up there for so long, Winry." Alphonse looked towards the stairs, the worry evident in his voice.

Alphonse moved on into the house, so Winry followed. "He’s that bad?"

"Brother’s had a rough time overnight," Alphonse answered as they climbed the stairs.  "His temperature is also up right now, so he’s not thinking too clearly."

Alphonse pushed the door open and waited while Winry stepped through into the room.  It was a nice room.  Her first feeling about it was approval, the colors weren’t so pale as to be cold and clinical, but the cool blue ought to be soothing to someone who was ill.  It was obviously a sick room, though.  The slightly stale odor of sickness and sweat was enough, without even turning her gaze on the occupant. Winry almost wanted to close her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see how miserable and small Edward seemed.

The covers were mostly pulled back, his shirt unbuttoned and pushed open.  A compress lay on his forehead and another across his broad, muscled chest.  A thin layer of gauze covered the coating of medicine and bio-grease spread around his shoulder port.  Winry peeled it away as gently as she could to get a look at it in front. The skin around Edward’s socket looked inflamed and swollen.  Winry shook her head, hating to see it, knowing how painful it had to be. Edward’s tolerance was phenomenal, but pain was pain, and it took his strength she was sure.  At least he was resting.  He might be tough against pain, but fever could make Edward rave so.  It was no wonder Alphonse was looking so careworn.

"Edward?" Winry called his name softly as she sat on the edge of the bed.  The eyes fluttered a little.  Edward sighed softly, but he didn’t waken.  Her hand settled on the chest compress.  It needed cooling, so she pulled it off and handed it to Alphonse, her hand smoothing the moisture it left behind through the fine scattering of light, golden hair he had now.  "Edward?" Winry said his name again, touching his hot cheek.

This time Edward’s eyes opened a little, dull and glassy.  He closed them with another sigh, as if he were so tired that just that small effort had exhausted him.  After a moment though, they drifted open again and seemed to study her face.  "Win…" Edward lifted his left hand listlessly, bumped it against her thigh; tried to bury weak, clumsy fingers in the heavy wool fabric of her skirt.  "’M glad you came."

Taking his fumbling hand in her own, Winry rubbed the back of it, as she sat there on the bed with him.  She hoped he could stay awake with her for at least a few minutes.  Edward looked bad.  Winry wanted to know how bad. "Edward?" She kept her voice gentle.  Pressing his fingertips, Winry watched to see how long it took for the color to return under his nails.  She frowned at the results and gave the back of his hand a gentle pinch. "He’s very dehydrated, Alphonse."

"I know," the younger brother answered, walking around the bed to put the compress back on Edward’s chest, and taking the one from his forehead.  "It’s been difficult, Winry.  I’ve been making him suck on ice chips, but he hasn’t been able to keep anything down most of the weekend."

"’M thirsty," the elder brother mumbled as Winry smoothed out the moisture under that compress, too.

"I know, Edward." Winry glanced up at Alphonse as the younger brother handed her a glass of water.  "Do you know if Mr. Mustang might have a lemon?" She sighed, impatiently. "Don’t make such a stupid face, Alphonse!"  She told him sharply, "If he has one, go and get me a slice of it!"

The boy fled.  Winry hoped it meant there was a lemon to be had, and not that she’d frightened him off.

"Don’t be so hard on him, Winry…" Edward’s voice was barely audible.  He tried to wet his lips.  Winry rubbed a little of the water on them and a little more when the tip of his tongue eagerly took it. "He doesn’t know how to deal with this." He closed his eyes and Winry thought he might have gone back to sleep.  After a moment, though, they opened, regarding her as she patted the compress against his cheeks and throat.  "He was just a little boy when Mom died."

Winry’s hand clenched the wet towel until it dripped, her eyes snapping.  "Don’t say such stupid things, Edward!" she snarled.

At least Edward had the presence of mind to be startled.  That was a good sign.

"Is that the kind of stuff you’ve been saying to Alphonse?" Winry demanded not waiting for an answer.  "It’s no wonder he’s a mess! Well I won’t have it."

"What?" Edward seemed to think he was imagining things.  His voice cracked in alarm.

"You heard me," she told him.  "You said stupid things like that to him, making him cry, and him almost a grown man.  You can just stop it now, because you’re not dying.  Geeze, Ed!" Winry rolled her eyes at him.

Eyes wide, Edward seemed almost alarmed, his lips drew back, baring his teeth a little.  Then he bit his lip and looked away.

Winry took pity on him, smoothing her cool fingers over his hot forehead before replacing the compress there. "You may feel like it, Edward, but the fever is just taking your strength from you.  And the infection." Winry squeezed his hand a little.  Her other hand settled on the coverlet over his metal knee.  "And… unfortunately, your leg too, Ed.  It’s using bio-energy that you really can’t afford to feed it right now.  You need it for your own healing."

"What?" Edward’s voice was barely audible.  "But-" his expression was pained.  She could have sworn his eyes had misted with tears before he hooded them.  "What if I need it Winry?  It’s my… my leg…"

Gentling her expression, Winry sighed softly as her hand stroked Edward's bangs back from his face.  His hair felt so brittle and oily.  "I know Ed."  _He needs a bath_ , she thought.  He was normally so fastidious.  It was strange to see all his gold looking so dull and tarnished.  Edward was so pale now; even his eyes seemed hazel instead of amber.  Stranger still to see the stubble of beard sparkling against his cheek.  _He’d feel a little better if he were at least clean again._   "I don't like to take it from you either," she tried to sound reassuring.  She knew how he must feel.  Even if he was too weak to get up, having his leg at least took away some of his sense of helplessness.  "But you don’t have enough energy to power it right now.  You need it for the rest of your body."

Edward nodded sullenly, but he wouldn’t make eye contact.

Winry massaged the back of Edward's hand with her thumbs and then laid it across his chest. She folded the blankets back from his legs to take a look at them.  His pajamas were in the way, and when she tried rolling the leg up she realized that Alphonse had put a wool sleeve on Edward's leg to keep the cold steel from chilling his flesh leg through the thin fabric.  She smiled at it, even though it was in her way.

She recognized the clumsy stitches, the uneven red and cream pattern.  Gracia had been trying to teach her to knit when Winry had made this tube for Edward last winter.  Winry thought she was about hopeless, but Edward had said he liked hers because it was heavier.  Winry hadn't argued, though she knew it was thick because her stitches were too tight. At any rate, she was going to have to take off Edward's pajamas to get to the buttons up the outside of his leg, so she left it for now.

Lifting both his feet off the bed, Winry held them together to compare them.  "Look Ed," she waited until he dragged his eyes to what she wanted to show him.  "I’d have to take it off to make the adjustments anyway." She told him crisply, trying to keep her tone professional.  "Your left foot is way smaller than your right.  I bet you've been stuffing your shoe with rags again," she added, pretending annoyance.  "Never mind mentioning to me that your foot doesn't fit anymore.  I’ll have to rebuild it."

"Sorry."

"What?" Winry had barely heard him, but she was sure she had blinked.

Edward cleared his throat carefully. "I’m sorry you have so much work to do on it," he managed a little more volume, but his voice was tight with emotion he wouldn’t normally have shown. 

Often Winry wished that Edward were a little more demonstrative outside of his once frequent fits of temper. Now that it came down to it though, it nearly broke her heart to hear him.

"When you get a little of your strength back, you can use your spring-loader."

Edward’s eyes widened a little. "You have it?"

"More correctly," Winry raised a finger; " _We_ have it.  I shipped it to Alphonse last week.  I made the adjustments based on the rough measurements Alphonse did for me."

"I brought it from our apartment on Saturday, Brother," Alphonse added lightly as he came back in the room with the lemon.  "I brought it over with me, remember?"

Edward shook his head. "I don’t-don’t ‘member much from yesterday Al," he whispered.

Winry's eyes met those of the younger brother, who shook his head. Edward was too out of it to realize that it was Monday now, even if he’d been told several times.

"Don’t want to."  He sighed closing his eyes. "’M tired now."

"Brother?" Alphonse reached out a hand towards his brother, but Winry stopped him.

"Let him go Al," she told him quietly.  She took the bowl of fresh lemon wedges from him and guided him to sit in the chair next to Edward’s bed.  "He needs the rest," she told him as she squeezed some juice into the water and rinsed her hands. "It might be easier on him if he’s asleep when I disconnect his leg, anyway."

"His leg?" Alphonse’s tired eyes flew open; his hands gripped the wooden arms of the chair.  "But Winry!"

"Shh…" Winry smoothed her hand over Edward’s cheek, but he didn’t react.  "He’s asleep again."  She brushed Edward's hair back from his face again and then turned to crouch next to Al’s chair.  "Listen to me Alphonse.  You understand that his automail limbs don’t have their own power source right?  They use bio-electric energy his body produces to create the power to run them."

Alphonse nodded, and she brushed his bangs back from his face too.  He was obviously so tired.  Winry wondered when the last time he’d really slept was.  "Automail limbs don't really power down when they're at rest.  Well," She amended, "not in the same way our natural limbs do.  They still use more energy.  I'm working on an idea that would change that, but for right now, Edward’s body needs all the energy it can get.  Sick as he is, he can’t afford to waste any on a leg he’s too weak to use.  Once I disconnect it, I think he’ll start to recover some of his strength.   If nothing else he won’t have something extra draining it anyway."

Winry unbuttoned the top of Edward's pants, and started to peel them down.

"Winry!" Alphonse jumped up, red faced and full of modesty for his brother's sake.  Then he drew his hands back, curling his fingers in embarrassment for his outburst.  "Sorry."

"Al," Winry took his hands.  "You're so sweet and old-fashioned," she said gently.  "Both of you are sometimes.  It's not anything I haven't seen before, unless you expect him to do something unusual.  That got the desired chuckle from the younger brother _._   _It's not as if the fabric really conceals that much either_ , she thought.  "But why don't you take them off and I'll pull a sheet across him as you do.  Okay?"  She asked brightly.

"Eh heh," Alphonse laughed uneasily, as she let go of his hands and moved to the other side of Edward.  "Okay, Winry." His tone told her he didn't think much of her idea, but he did as he had been told anyway.

Winry had really intended to humor the boy, and keep the sheet between her eyes and anything Alphonse was worried about her seeing.  The livid bruise over the inside of Edward's hip and into his groin shocked her into recanting that intention.  Winry sucked her breath in sympathetically, and pulled the sheet back to examine it.

"Alphonse," she breathed, gingerly touching the edges of the bruise.  "How did this happen?"

"It's–" The boy hesitated.  "We're not sure Winry."

"Not sure?"  She stared at him.  "Didn't he tell you how he did it?"

"No," Alphonse said.  "We found it Saturday when we put him back to bed.  Mr. Mustang believes he ran into the corner of the table in the dining room.  He was really confused, and was after his arm. He left a big scratch on the table where he dragged the arm across it."

Winry withdrew her probing fingers when Edward whined softly in his sleep and tried to shift away from her touch.  She didn't want to wake him until she'd finished with his leg. "Well," she said, pulling the covers over it "That's a bone deep bruise. I doubt he could walk right now even if he did have the strength."

"Mi-Doctor Rockbell," Mustang spoke from the doorway.  Winry wondered how long it would be before he stopped correcting himself.  Maybe about the same amount of time it would take before she stopped having to check herself for much the same thing. In all honesty, she wished he would just call her by her name, especially since she was a guest in his home. Their relationship was strange enough already, without the unnecessary formality.  "I thought you might prefer to be close, so I put you in the next room," the general was saying.  He hooked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the direction.  "I’m sorry, but it’s not a very big room."

"I’m sure it’s fine Mr. Mustang."

"No, I mean that I don't really think you'll have room to set up a workspace, so I’ll clear some space for you in my workroom later.  Alphonse already has part of Edward’s arm in there soaking in anti-corrosives I believe."

Alphonse nodded.

"So I can clear the rest of that bench for you," Mustang concluded decisively.  "In the mean time, I think you had asked me to keep this case handy?" he asked.

Winry snatched the small fabric case of tools he held out to her, almost gushing. "Oh yes!  Thank you!"  Her hands squeezed the case for a moment before she unrolled it onto the bed next to Edward’s metal leg.

In moments, a soft hiss told her the hydraulics had depressurized as the leg shut down at her direction.  She flipped open the two release toggles embedded on the edge of the socket and with a gentle twist, the leg came off in her hands.  Edward barely even mumbled in his sleep. "There now," she set Edward's leg down and patted the thigh that was all he had left on that side.  "That wasn't so bad, was it?" She asked, as she pulled the sheet back over his legs.  "Let's leave his foot uncovered, Alphonse, until his temperature comes down some, Ok?  Meanwhile, why don't you get me your notebook so you can tell me about his medicines?  I want you to get some rest soon too."


	10. It Takes a Woman's Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Winry, delayed by bad weather and railway problems, finally arrives to treat a very sick Edward Elric. She finds Alphonse exhausted, and Edward convinced he is dying, because fever has taken so much of his strength. Winry gets started setting things straight right away. She talks to Alphonse about the need to remove Edward's leg to conserve his energy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Winry snatched the small fabric case of tools he held out to her, almost gushing. "Oh yes! Thank you!" Her hands squeezed the case for a moment before she unrolled it onto the bed next to Edward’s metal leg._
> 
> _In moments, a soft hiss told her the hydraulics had depressurized as the leg shut down at her direction. She flipped open the two release toggles embedded on the edge of the socket and with a gentle twist, the leg came off in her hands. Edward barely even mumbled in his sleep. "There now," she set Edward's leg down and patted the thigh that was all he had left on that side. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" She asked, as she pulled the sheet back over his legs. "Let's leave his foot uncovered, Alphonse, until his temperature comes down some, Ok? Meanwhile, why don't you get me your notebook so you can tell me about his medicines? I want you to get some rest soon too."_

**Date:** 08.Dec.19 - Monday  
 **Time:** 08:12  
 **Location:** Central City - Home of General Roy Mustang

“Dyadrine?” Winry raised her eyes from the page to glance sharply at Alphonse.  “How many days has he been taking this, Al?”

“A couple weeks?” Alphonse’s tired eyes widened at her expression.  “I don’t know, Winry maybe only a few days?  Brother hasn't been really clear on that.  He didn’t even tell me he was _having_ pain again until he collapsed on Friday. What’s wrong?”

“Al,” Winry sighed. She knew the boy was tired, but she couldn’t believe what she was reading. “Do you even know what this is?” she asked her voice rising though she tried to keep it steady. “It’s just another trade name for morphine! Damn it! You know he can’t take that for more than a couple of days before it will start making him sick as hell.  And then with this fever?" she touched Edward’s warm shoulder. "It’s no wonder he can’t keep anything down. He'll try to turn himself inside out to get that crap out of his system.” Alphonse cringed so hard that Winry relented a little, realizing just how exhausted the younger brother was, both mentally and physically. She kept her eyes narrowed at him though. “Geeze!” she finally grumbled, and pointed into the hallway.  “I’ll deal with you later.  Go to bed.”

Alphonse opened his mouth to protest, but Winry didn’t give him the opportunity. “Right now, Alphonse." She softened her voice a little.  "You’re too tired to think straight.”

“Okay… I…” Alphonse gave his brother one last glance and then nodded again. “He’ll be okay, won’t he?”

“I’ll take care of him,” she said offering a small smile, trying to reassure him.  “Now get some rest.”

She watched with a sigh as Alphonse meekly obeyed.  She really needed to contain her temper.  How would Alphonse really have known?  What did Edward ever tell anyone until he was too sick to hide it.  He’d long since grown out of playing sick to get out of work.  Now his work _meant_ something to him. She removed the compress and stroked Edward’s damp bangs back from his pale face.  _Now what_ , she wondered, considering her options.  While she thought about it, she refreshed the compress and used it to dab Edward's face and neck for a moment.

“Mr. Mustang,” she asked quietly.  It shamed her that she’d all but shouted at Alphonse in front of the older man.  She'd forgotten Mustang while she looked over the careful notes Alphonse had kept.  It wasn't until she had turned to follow the younger Elric's progress that she'd noticed the man standing with his back against the doorframe as he patted the boy on the shoulder in passing.  “Do you feel alert enough to spend another hour running errands for me?”

“Of course,” came the smiling response.  “Your driving was quite skillful despite the weather, so I was able to sleep on the way back.”

 _Always the flatterer,_ Winry rolled her eyes a little.  “I’m going to need some things I don’t have with me to help Edward feel better," She told Mustang.  "I’ll have to write a prescription for a couple of them.”  She growled softly again, her hand resting on the hot forehead of her childhood friend.  “I think if you go to Baker’s Pharmacy though, that Mr. Baker will probably have everything in one stop.  His special blend ginger ale, I particularly want, and you can’t get it anywhere else that I know of."  At least Winry felt she could count on Mr. Baker to have his shop opened since the owner and his wife lived upstairs from it.

She laid the compress back on Edward's forehead, and refreshed the one on his chest as well.  "I'd better just write you a list," she decided, drying her hands on her wool skirt. Winry tore the back page out of Alphonse's notebook and used his pen to write out her list. Having done that, Winry pulled her prescription pad out of her purse and scribbled in it.  She smirked a little as she finished and handed the smaller pages to Mr. Mustang as well. She had never dreamed that her first real prescription with her own signature would be for Edward. It figured though.

*          *          *

Roy scanned the list once Winry handed it to him.  He chuckled softly at some of the items on it.

"What?" Winry frowned at him. She didn't see anything particularly funny.

"Well," Roy began schooling his expression.  "Some of these things are already here.  You see, Edward and Alphonse wrote a similar list a couple of days ago when Alphonse went to get some of Edward's things for him.  And Ralph," he amended when the dog wiggled himself into view down by Edward's legs.

"Well just cross off the things that are here already," Winry told him a little more crossly than she meant to. But really how was she supposed to know what was already here, or what the boys had done. _Not like they ever tell me anything_ , she thought.   _Men are so stupid!_

"I've put a star by anything that's especially crucial," she went on.  "Anything with a star, if Mr. Baker doesn't have it, you'll have to ask him to help you find it somewhere else.  On the other hand," Winry continued, stroking Edward's flesh shoulder.  "If you've got everything essential at Baker’s and one of the other things isn't available, don't trouble yourself about it.  Just come back and I'll muck through without that.  You need sleep too."

Winry grumbled a little at Mustang's back.  Who cared what he thought about the things she wanted to help comfort Edward?  So what if she put a box of Almond Crunch on the list? Edward liked them, and it was easier to get Edward to eat something a little sweet when he was ill. Almond Crunch wasn't so sugary that it would turn his stomach though. She stroked her friend's brow, and he moaned softly, worried eyes fluttering open. 

He groaned again, and swallowed convulsively.  "Win…"

Well, maybe she wouldn't be enticing him to nibble on the Almond Crunch just yet; Winry realized gently pulling him onto his side.

Afterwards, Winry got a pale, but lucid Edward settled against the pillows again.  For the moment he was alert, his eyes following her movements.

"You all right?" Winry asked, sitting on the edge of the bed to pat the compress against his cheek. "Feel like that's over for now?"

Edward swallowed, and then nodded slightly, avoiding her eyes for a moment.

"Okay," Winry smiled for him, and reached to give his hand a little squeeze.  "Let me get this taken care of then," she told him, rising and picking up the basin.

Now Edward sighed and looked away.  It was pretty clear he was embarrassed that she had to deal with it for him.

Winry gave his shoulder another little pat.  She managed not to giggle at his discomfiture, but could not help a secret little smile once she was out of his sight.  How like him to be embarrassed over something he couldn't control.  _As if I haven't seen far worse from him._

"Edward?" she called gently as she re-entered his room.

Edward tore his gaze away from the window and gave Winry a wan little smile that nearly broke her heart.  Ralph danced back in with her, and hopped back up on the bed, wiggling into the little space between Winry's hip and Edward's side.  Winry started to shoo him back down, but Edward waved her off and rested his hand on his dog's head. "He's worried," Edward said with a pout, tiredly ruffling the dog's ears.  "He knows something's wrong."

Winry chuckled a little and picked up the glass of water Alphonse had helped her with earlier. She was glad to see he'd put a little angled straw into it.  "Take a sip, Edward," she said cheerily and offered it to him. “The lemon will help your stomach.”

At first Edward shook his head, but after a moment she coaxed him to take enough to wet his mouth.

"You want to sleep some more?"

"No," he shook his head.  "I'm tired…" He sighed. "Real tired. But I'm not sleepy right now."

"All right then," Winry smiled for him and gave his flesh shoulder a pat. "I want to take your temperature then.  Is that all right?"

Edward nodded.  Obviously, he knew she was going to do it anyway.

"It's down some from when I came in. That's for sure," she went on, easing the blanket back from his flesh leg a little more meaning to do what she could to keep it that way. "Alphonse kept very specific notes," she told him as she slipped the glass under his tongue.  Maybe she could have praised Alphonse that, she realized now, instead of just yelling at the younger brother for what he didn’t know.  "So we'll have to keep a close watch on your temperature, Ed.

Winry took his hand while they waited.  After a moment though, her brow furrowed and she lifted it, turning it over for a good look.  With a growl, Winry dug in her handbag.  In a moment, she produced a jar of hand cream.  "Boys are so stupid!" she grumped while Edward could not argue the point.  He tried anyway.  "Keep your mouth shut!" Winry told him sharply.  She scooped out of healthy dollop of the cream and rubbed it into his hand.

Edward did what he was told, but he still voiced his opinion about her 'harsh' treatment by grumbling.

"You be quiet too," Winry told him, knowing exactly what his complaint would be.  "You don't need to worry about it being too unmanly for you.  This is the stuff we use in the shop.  It doesn't have perfume.  Just _look_ at the cracks in your skin, Edward!" she fussed, moving on to his foot.  "Geeze!  Did it not occur to either of them to just help you with a little lotion?"

"No, of course not!" she answered for him, when she saw Edward roll his eyes in response.  "And far be it for you to ask Al for anything you actually _need_." She shook her head, rubbing her hands together for a moment to get the excess lotion worked into her own skin. When she was finished, Winry reached over and took the thermometer out of her friend’s mouth and read it. "Well, it's not too bad now, Ed." She gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.  "Which probably explains why you aren't still talking out of your head," she huffed a little.  "When I first got here, I thought I was going to have to put you in a tub of cold water.

Edward shivered visibly, giving her a wide-eyed look.  "Sounds peachy!" he told her.  Obviously lying.  His voice was so ragged, it was hardly more than a croak.  As if that weren't enough, he ruined the show of bravado further by launching immediately into a harsh fit of coughing, his hand clutching at his chest.

Winry put the thermometer on the table frowning.  "Ed, try not to cough." The admonition was useless.  She grabbed another pillow and pulling him up, tucked it behind him.  Her arm stayed around him, steadying him, while her fingers dug into his chest near the clavicle anchor. She needed to find that pressure point before he hurt himself.  "Try not to cough!"

"Ow!" Edward whined as the fit eased.

"Don't be a baby, Ed," Winry scolded.  "It stopped didn't it?"

Edward nodded, still wincing, his hand prying weakly at her fingers. In a moment she eased off the pressure little by little.  "It's sore, Win–" he was cut off by another sharp purulent sounding little cough.

"Ed…" Winry reached for one of the face cloths and dipped it in the cooling water before she wiped the blood that stained his lips. "Here, spit it out," she told him, holding the cloth for him.  "You don't want to swallow that, okay?  It'll just turn your stomach again." She offered him a sip of water when he was done. "Al's notes said that he thought you were having nerve feedback," she said, stroking his hair, still holding the water for him. “It looks like he called that right.”

Edward took another little sip and then nodded. His eyes seemed too big for his face.  "That's bad, isn't it?"

"It's not good, Ed," Winry admitted with a frown. She continued to stroke his hair.  "You haven't had this much trouble with feedback since your first installation.  I don't like that it's got you coughing so hard you break capillaries."

"How do you think I feel about it," Edward answered petulantly.

Winry sighed and wiped a fleck of red from the corner of Edward's mouth.  "Here," she pressed him to take another little sip of water.  "You've about scared Al to death," she told him. "What with that and then all your crazy talk."

Edward snorted.  It made him cough, but he managed to suppress it.  "You wouldn't believe the amount of arnica he's made me take, Winry.  I'll never get the taste out of my mouth."

Winry rewarded him for his whining with the drinking straw. She noticed his reluctance to take another sip though, so once he had, she set the glass down for a while.  The water didn't do him any good if he just threw it back up.  That she gathered was how it had been the last couple of days.  "Mr. Mustang has gone to get some medicines and other things for me," Winry told him, stroking his bangs out of his face. The man looked rough, and no question about that. Winry knew Edward hated to be unshaven, and the fact that he obviously hadn't even attempted it for at least a day or two was telling of how ill he was, even if he seemed coherent right now.  The same was true of his dirty hair and dull hazel looking eyes.

"What," Edward asked.  It seemed that he had not missed her studying him.

Winry slanted him a speculative look.  "I was just thinking maybe that bath isn't such a bad idea, Ed."

Edward shook his head, shivering again.

"You don't want a bath?" She asked, pulling his a blanket up a little now that he was cooler.

"It's not that."

"You don't want _me_ to help you bathe?

"No, It's not that either," Edward said impatiently. He shivered hard. "I just… I don't want a cold bath Winry."

“Ed…” Winry took his hand again and patted it.  “Ed, honey, it doesn’t have to be a cold bath.

“But you said–”

“I was talking about the fever then, Ed!” Winry laughed.

Edward pouted. “It’s not nice to make fun of a man when he’s sick, Winry!” he grumbled.  He pulled his hand free of hers and rubbed his eyes.

“You have a headache?” Winry observed, her hand coming to rest gently on the crown of his head.

He nodded a little. “Lots of stuff hurts.”

Winry sighed softly, and tucked herself in next to him again.  She got an arm around him, her hand avoiding the ruined shoulder and cradling his ribs instead.  “Just lean against me and rest Edward,” she soothed.  “Mr. Mustang will be back soon, and you can have a new pain pill, okay?  I don’t want you to take any more of the ones you have.  They won’t help you get better.”

“I don’t want to take any more, anyway,” Edward murmured.  His head came to rest on her shoulder, and in a moment, she was pretty sure that exhaustion had put him to sleep even if he had said only moments before that he wasn’t sleepy.

Winry held him like that for a while. She could tell by his breathing that he was hurting even while he slept, but she let him rest however he could until she could do more for his comfort.  Maybe Mr. Mustang would return soon.

“Win…” Edward stirred a little against her, clearly uncomfortable.  “Could you let me lie back down, Winry,” He mumbled.  “My back is–”

Winry turned her head and kissed his temple and then slipped out from behind him as gently as she could.  She wondered at the soft little sigh when she kissed him.  She had meant it to be a comfort to him.  “I’m sorry, Ed,” she whispered as she helped him back into his pillows. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“What?” Edward mumbled thickly.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you, Ed,” she shook her head stroking his bangs.  “That wasn’t very professional of me.”

His eyes widened a bit. “That didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he said a little of his usual brashness coming through even though his voice was hoarse. “I was already uncomfortable. It was nice,” he averred.  “It made me feel better.  Kiss me any time you want, Winry.”

Winry gave his head a little pat wishing he meant it the way he’d said it.  “Go to sleep, Ed.  Okay?” She wanted to put ice on that ugly hot bruise, and she thought it would save the protest if he were asleep when she did it. “You’re sleepier than you think you are anyway.” She hardly had to say it.  Edward was already drifting off, mumbling something she couldn’t understand.

For the next few minutes, Winry reread Alphonse’s notebook. She wanted to give Edward a chance to get a little deeper into sleep so she wouldn’t disturb him.  Once she had finished reading, she turned to a fresh page and continued the journal, by writing her own observations.  Then she mapped out a treatment plan for Edward. By the time she had finished, Edward seemed to be sleeping pretty well.  There was a crease between his brows, though, a telltale marker of his pain.

“Ed,” Winry called his name softly, but he didn’t stir, so she took a fresh compress and unfolded it on the edge of the bed so she could scoop some ice into it. The bruise looked just as livid as it had when she’d first seen it. Not that she expected it to have changed that much in an hour. Maybe she had hoped her memory of it had been exaggerated. But as she arranged the sheet over him, to try to keep his modesty while she tended it she mentally reaffirmed what she had told Alphonse earlier. If she hadn’t taken his leg, he probably still couldn’t have walked.  Even if he was much better tomorrow, she didn’t think he would be able to bear weight on that leg. _If he did this on a piece of furniture, he must have been running_ she thought as she pushed the sheet out of her way more, gently pulling his leg toward her a bit. She bent to get a better look at it.  _Another inch and it would have been a lot worse for him, I guess_. Hardly concerned with what it was she was touching, she eased his penis aside a bit. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate her putting ice on it, but she’d noticed that the discoloration even tinged the side of his shaft some.  No way was he doing any walking, she confirmed to herself.  Bending close, she gently applied the ice pack to the deepest part of the bruise.

“Do you need better light, Doctor Rockbell?”

Winry nearly jumped out of her skin.  She had not heard Mustang re-enter the house, nor climbing the stairs. Edward whined softly, the jerk of the compress against his injury hurting him and ruining the relative peace of his sleep. “Could you _knock_?” she growled, her hands clenching.

“I beg your pardon,” Mustang returned smoothly.  She could just hear the smirk in his tone, and hated how her cheeks were burning.  It wasn’t like she’d been doing anything wrong.  “I was trying to spare Fullmetal any embarrassment.”

 _By embarrassing me?_   Winry drew her breath in to retort, but bit her tongue and kept it to herself.  She reminded herself that it wasn’t professional, that she was tired, he was tired and that her quick, reactive tongue wasn’t helping matters.  Especially not with Edward squirming under her where she was trying to treat that bruise.

“The hell’re you doing, Win?” It would have been a shriek if Edward’s voice hadn’t been so weak. Instead it was like a croak as he pulled his leg up and tried to push himself out from under Winry’s hands. His only hand pulled at the sheet, which he held possessively over himself, his eyes accusing.

“Ed—”

Winry was interrupted by Alphonse tearing breathlessly into the room. “Ed?” he cried, “What’s wrong?” The younger boy looked to Winry when Edward only scowled darkly. He was probably too weak to do much else, so it was about his only weapon.  “What’s wrong with him?” Alphonse expected her to know.

“Too many people in the room while I’m trying to treat my patient, for one thing!” she barked at him. “I thought I told you to go to bed, Al!”

Alphonse backed up a pace, wide-eyed.

“I was putting ice on your stupid bruise, Edward!” she told the blond, pointing at the area he now had the sheet tightly covering.  “As if you have anything I haven’t already seen anyway. What did you think? I was playing with your toys?” she rolled her eyes. “As if!”

Now she pointed at Mustang, “Is that everything on my list?”

“Yes ma’am,” the erstwhile general nodded.

“Good.  Leave it right there.  I’ll sort it out once I get him settled again.”

Mustang complied setting his bags down on the quilt chest at the foot of the bed.

“Well?”  Winry asked when neither he nor Alphonse made any move to go anywhere.  She pointed animatedly out the door.  “Go to bed,” she told them, her eyes flashing.  “NOW!” she cried when they still hadn’t moved.

“Win…” Edward mumbled from the bed.

“You too!” she rounded on the sick man, as the other two fled her fury.  “You most of all, Edward.  Go to sleep right now.”


	11. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Winry arriving to treat a very sick Edward Elric, worries over his condition, but becomes frustrated when the others interfere with her and sends them all back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Well?” Winry asked when neither he nor Alphonse made any move to go anywhere. She pointed animatedly out the door. “Go to bed,” she told them, her eyes flashing. “NOW!” she cried when they still hadn’t moved._
> 
> _“Win…” Edward mumbled from the bed._
> 
> _“You too!” she rounded on the sick man, as the other two fled her fury. “You most of all, Edward. Go to sleep right now.”_

**Date:** 08.Dec.19 - Monday  
 **Time:** 11:47  
 **Location:** Central City - Home of General Roy Mustang

The next time Edward awoke he was immediately aware of something soft and warm was pressed up against his back.  It took a few minutes of waking up before he realized that it was a human body. “Al…” he breathed.  Why was Al back in here with him, he wondered.  Hadn’t Winry sent him to bed earlier?  Maybe he’d gotten restless, or maybe Al had been too worried to sleep and Winry had made him lie down in here again. 

A soft sigh in the back of his neck and a little movement alerted Edward that it was not his brother lying with him this time. _Winry_. He stilled. If she was sleeping, she must have been exhausted.  He didn’t want to disturb her if he didn’t have to.  He was hurting and felt somewhat sick again, but he could bear it a while yet.  He wasn’t sure at all what he’d do if he had to pee, but that could wait a little while too. He couldn’t remember when he’d had to go last anyway. Maybe when he had to she’d wake Al or something.  It wasn’t exactly a pressing issue right now.  For the moment, he tried to lie as still as he could so she could rest.  He had to admit, when Winry stirred, her arm curling around his chest, her warm hand resting gently on his flesh arm, that it was nice. Maybe, he realized, he wanted to keep still because she would stop holding him if he woke her.  So he closed his eyes, surrounded by the soothing lavender of her scent, and tried to sleep again.

When he woke again, the warmth and softness was gone and he found he missed it.  His pain was worse though, and his stomach roiling pretty badly now.

“Ed?” He cracked his eyes open at the sound of her voice calling his name.  Winry eased him up a little as he pushed over onto his back, and she tucked a couple of pillows behind him.  “You doing okay?” she wanted to know.

“Don’t feel so good,” he told her, thinking that there might be real trouble from his stomach before long.

Her hand took his and lifted his arm, sliding under it, as she sat on the bed next to him.  Now he realized that there was an IV in his forearm, but she had wrapped a bandage around it several times to hide the needle from him.  _How silly_ , Edward thought, closing his eyes. He appreciated it more than he was willing to admit even to himself.

“Ed,” Winry called his name again, gently, and he opened his eyes. It seemed lighter now.  He realized that Winry had opened the blinds and drapes on the other side of the room.  Had he slept again? Winry held a bottle in one hand and was pouring a dark liquid into the spoon in her other hand.

Edward’s stomach warned him against any sort of incursion and he shook his head slightly before she could offer the spoon. “Not right now, Win…” he said a little thickly.  “Think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Trust me to know what I’m doing here, Ed, huh?” Winry told him, though not with the expected sarcasm. Her expression was gentle.  “This should help,” she added offering the spoon.

Swallowing hard once, Edward let her feed it to him–so sweet and heavy he could barely stand to swallow it. He couldn’t get the straw in his mouth fast enough to rinse it down when she offered the lemon water.  She’d get it back in a second for sure, but he knew there was no arguing with her.  He waited for it.  And waited.

“Better?”

Edward didn’t answer right away, still waiting for the inevitable, but his stomach had settled considerably. “Yah,” he finally admitted.  “What was that?”

“I admire that you’re trying to educate yourself on your medications now, Edward,” she quipped. “Could I possibly hope you’ve learned your lesson to make sure you know what you’re taking from now on?” she sighed, and setting the bottle and spoon down, reached over and touched his face gently with the backs of her fingers. “That’s just Phenergan.  It might make you a little sleepy, but that’s okay. You need the rest. You’re exhausted.”

Edward nodded, but he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to be awake with Winry talking to him, and touching him gently like that.  “Win?” he asked.

“Yeah, Ed,” Winry answered patting his hand to let him know she was paying attention.

“I’m real sick, huh?” he asked stupidly. He shivered, but he felt too hot.

“Yeah, Honey, you’re real sick,” she said frowning prettily and pushing his hair out of his eyes. “But you’re going to be fine, okay?  Don’t worry. I know you feel bad, but we’ll get you well soon.” She was quiet for a while then, just stroking his hair, twisting strands gently between her fingers.  Edward thought he would drift off, but then she spoke again.  “Ed?”

“Hmm…” he opened his eyes, confused by the change in scenery, a half-formed dream of them sitting in the sun on the river bank in Rezembool fading. He was disappointed to realize that this was reality and that had just been a pleasant daydream he’d wandered into. “’s cold here, Winry,” he told her as if she didn’t know.

“I know, Ed.” She stroked his bangs back from his face. “You’re getting feverish again.” She let go of his hand, and got up, settling his arm back on the blanket, and resettling it a little more firmly when he lifted it to reach for her. “If your stomach is still doing all right, I want you to take some aspirin, okay? It’ll help your pain a little, too. I know it’s bad. You don’t have to tell me it isn’t. I can see it.”

Edward grumbled, but he wanted the aspirins anyway, so he decided he’d better not argue with her or she might not let him have them.  Wait. _That doesn’t make sense_ , he told himself.  “I think I’m getting stupid,” he mumbled.

“What, Ed?” Winry asked shaking the tablets out of the bottle.

“Nothing,” Edward shook his head. “Can’t think straight,” he added raising his hand to rub his aching head.

“Careful, Honey,” She caught his hand and settled it on the bed again. “You have an IV, remember?”

“No…” Edward lifted it and looked at it. “Oh…” he sighed and laid it back on the blanket. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he told her with another sigh.

“It’s okay, Edward,” she told him gently.  “Fever makes you stupid.  Here’s your aspirin.  You can have three.”

“Need about five.”

“You get three.”  Winry held them up for him. “You want them all three in your mouth at once?”

Edward sighed and opened his mouth so she could put them in since obviously he wasn’t allowed to use his hand.  He closed his teeth on them and crunched them several times before Winry could offer him the straw.

“Dammit, Ed!” she complained. “That’s so gross, and it probably isn’t very good for your teeth either.”

“I don’t care,” he answered back with as much of his normal fire as he could.  “It makes it work faster.”

Winry sighed and practically stabbed his mouth with the straw in answer.  Edward drank as much as she would let him.

He drifted for a while. Edward was aware of Winry sitting next to him, holding his hand, but his attention had gone out the window, his eyes on the rooftops across the street, wishing he could at least see the world at street level. A quick pinch of pain in his arm jerked him awake again.  He would have pulled it away from whatever caused it, but Winry had a firm hold of it.  Her thumb pressed a wad of cotton where the IV had been.  He didn’t see the needle end of the thing.  Maybe she’d already put it away somewhere.  Edward didn’t look very hard for it. He didn’t particularly want to see it, and was glad it was gone. 

“Sorry Ed, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Winry said gently, still holding his arm. “Can you give my hand a little squeeze?” She took his hand in hers. “Squeeze it really hard, okay?”

Edward did what she wanted, not really understanding why, but she squeezed back when she didn’t think he was working hard enough, so he tightened his grip for a moment just to show her.

“That’s good,” Winry smiled at him. Edward hated how sad and worried she looked. “You’re getting some strength back now, and that’s good.”  She pointed and Edward followed with his eyes until they came to rest on a crutch leaned against one of the bedside tables within easy reach.  Edward had a real love hate relationship with his crutch.  It was cool looking, made out of high quality aluminum alloy anodized with a bright glossy red finish. The forearm cuff and handgrip were glossy black, as was the rubber tip.  He liked the way it looked, but still he hated it when he had to use it. “Get a little stronger and you can probably get yourself around a bit.”

“Yah,” he agreed absently, his eyes going beyond the crutches to the window again.  “I guess so.” He expected to fall asleep again, but he realized that he wasn’t really sleepy now.

“Ed,” she called him back again, sitting on the edge of the bed.  She had put a little bandage over the hole in his arm, and laid his hand back across his chest now. Her hand brushed his bangs back out of his eyes again.  “While your stomach is settled, will you try to eat a little something?”

Edward shrugged listlessly. He wasn’t exactly anxious to eat.

“Nothing heavy, Honey,” she soothed, stroking his hair, “but you need some kind of nourishment to get your strength back.  Maybe some warm cereal?” she suggested.

“Maybe…” Edward admitted that he might be able to handle something like that.  He knew it would please Winry if he tried, and at least if it didn’t stay down it wouldn’t be so horrible to throw up.  “Okay,” he added, thinking maybe if he were too noncommittal about it she might get mad at him.

Winry’s hand cupped his cheek and then his forehead. “All right then.  You think you can keep your head straight for a few minutes if I leave you here on your own?”

Edward swallowed, remembering what had happened yesterday–the day before? Whenever.  He looked up at her, his face serious. “Yah.  I’ll do my best to not to lose it.  Okay?”

Winry nodded and with one last touch to his cheek, she went out of the room. He heard her footsteps go down the hall and then down the stairs behind him.  He turned his gaze back to the window. Maybe some birds would fly by or something.  Before long, the sound of little feet running on the hardwood in the hall distracted him and he glanced over to the door. Ralph stood there looking in, his head cocked speculatively. “There’s my dog.” Edward observed with a smile.  “C’mere Ralph,” he patted the bed and the diminutive hound blurred into action, happily bounding onto the bed, his tail wagging faster than Edward’s eye could follow. Not that he was trying. He was too busy trying to pet his happy little dog. “Where you been Ralphie?  You’re all cold. Did you go outside?”

Ralph bowed down quickly in response to that, his tail going even faster. Edward guessed that Winry must have taken him out before she let him come upstairs.

He couldn’t remember when he’d seen Ralph last.  He guessed it was about the time Winry had arrived. Probably when she’d sent Alphonse to bed, Ralph might have gone along with him.  He didn’t care, he was just glad to have his pet with him, and glad Mustang had suggested it.  Thoughts of the former General, reminded Edward of where he was.  “Where’s Roxy and Moxy?” he wondered as Ralph settled down next to him, his long chin resting on Edward’s ribs.  The little body twitched and the whip tail wagged again. Ralph knew the names of his friends.  But the Xerxes hound didn’t get up or bounce. Obviously Ralph had a clue that Edward was not well, and after greeting him, had settled down within easy reach of Edward’s hand. Edward smiled a little, and ruffled Ralph’s ears, as he gazed out the window at the grey sky.  “I’m glad I stuck you in my coat that day,” he mused softly.

“You said you’d tell me that whole story when you had time, Ed,” Winry said from the doorway.

He turned back to look at her. “Oh… I didn’t know you were there.”

“I wasn’t until just now,” She told him gently. “I wasn’t spying on you trying to sneak a peek at you being all lovey-dovey with your doggie.” She sat in the chair next to the bed, and gave Ralph a pat. She turned her attention to the bowl of oatmeal in her lap, stirring it with a spoon for a moment before leaning forward to offer a spoonful to Edward.

He took it, but hesitantly.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d kept anything down.  At this point, he wasn’t even sure when the last time he’d even tried to eat anything.  Maybe it had been Saturday.  He wasn’t sure. Maybe Alphonse had got him to try, and fever had made him forget, but he didn’t think so.  This time his stomach didn’t start a fight with him over eating, so he swallowed it and let her feed him another spoonful.  Edward liked oatmeal, but he’d expected this to be bland plain oatmeal since his stomach had been so much trouble.  He was pleasantly surprised to find that she had at the very least stirred in some black molasses.  It went down easily.  “Winry?” he asked when she didn’t offer him a third.

“Let’s wait a couple of minutes for that to settle, okay?” she suggested. “Look what a good boy Ralph is.” The dog wagged his tail.  “Tell me about the day you got him.”

“It was cold,” Edward told her, his eyes travelling to the window again. “Real cold, and grey like it is today.  So damn cold my metal joints ached with it,” he added, his left hand rubbing his shoulder.

Winry reached across and brushed Edward’s dirty bangs back from his face.

“Al and I had to be out though.  I had a second interview at the university.” He shrugged slightly as Winry took his hand. He only halfway realized it was to get him to stop squeezing his shoulder, which didn’t do anything to help the pain there.

“Al went with you to the interview?”

“No,” Edward said. “I mean he was with me but only because his winter classes were starting, and he still needed to pick up one of his books that had just come in.” Edward laughed a little. “Honestly, I thought they had called me in to tell me they weren’t interested any more after I corrected that guy’s calculation during the first one.  It seems that formula was a part of a major research project the university is involved in, and he’d been struggling with it.  I mean, it should have been easy for him to see it, but maybe he’d been staring at it with the error for so long that it just needed a fresh set of eyes. But anyway, they really had asked me in to talk more about that project and my own research and so on.  I still didn’t really think I had the teaching job. I was kind of afraid they were going to try to get me on their project instead.  By the end of the talk though, I had the keys to my classroom, and syllabus guidelines and all that stuff.”

Winry gave him another spoonful of the oatmeal. “But not Ralph yet,” she observed.

“No,” Edward agreed, his hand resting on the dog’s withers. He accepted more of the cereal when she offered it. It felt good to have something in his stomach. He thought it still felt a little touchy, but the medicine she’d given him was definitely helping him feel steadier.  He wasn’t feeling as disoriented as he had been for it seemed like days.  “See, after the University, we stopped at Brown’s for lunch. We were walking back to the car and this man came up to us and asked if we could spare a minute.  We didn’t really think anything of it.  I thought this guy was going to ask directions or the time until he pulled something out of his pocket and put it in my hand.”  He laughed.

“And?” Winry asked, even though Edward knew she knew what had been put in his hand.

“It was a little warm thing and I guess I must have just been staring, getting my mind around the fact that I was holding a puppy small enough to fit in my hand.  Meanwhile this guy was explaining that his baby sister had made him promise to find him a home.  Apparently this guy’s family breeds Xerxes hounds.  Poor little Ralph was too much of a runt for them to keep, so he was going to be put down.” Edward frowned at that. “You know, that shit really pisses me off. Just because he’s small, they were going to kill him. They said he’d never get big enough to show, so nobody would ever buy him, and they couldn’t breed him because his size could be passed on to his puppies! It’s damned stupid. Someone could have made a perfectly good pet out of him even if he wasn’t technically big enough for his breed,” he huffed, and let Winry soothe his temper by stroking his shoulder and petting his poor unwanted dog.

“Seems like someone did,” she observed. “So what happened then?”

“Well,” Edward thought back. “I’m not exactly sure. I was looking at this tiny dog and he was looking up at me with his little bitty face, his little ears cocked, and he was so cold.” Edward sighed and rolled his eyes at himself. “Al was busy explaining that we really couldn’t take him as much as we might want to.  And I was looking at this pitiful little pup, and then I looked back at this guy, who was trying to do the right thing, and keep a promise to his sister too… and then I looked back at the puppy, and Al’s explaining the whole time why we can’t have him while I’m thinking that I’m supposed to be the one making that argument,” he laughed softly. “But then the little guy shivered, and that was it.  I just shook my head.  I couldn’t handle it.  I took that puppy and tucked him into my coat. ‘C’mon, Al,’ I said right in the middle of his long explanations, you know how he is,  I elbowed him, and just turned around and walked away from the guy with my puppy in my coat, and that was Ralph.  I’m so weak,” he snickered. “But he’s a good dog. I’ve never regretted it.”

“You’re not weak, Edward.” Winry told him.  “You just have a good heart.” He watched as she shrugged, and then he was being offered another mouthful of the warm cereal.

He took it, but declined another. 

“You doing okay?” Winry asked, concern crossing her pretty face.

Edward nodded.  How he could feel full on just a few spoonfuls of oatmeal, he didn’t know, but he thought he’d better stop while he was ahead.  He was glad when Winry set the bowl on the side table and didn’t press him to eat any more.

Instead Winry stuck the thermometer in his mouth again and wouldn’t let Edward grumble about the indignity of it all.

“Well,” Winry told him taking the reading and shaking the mercury back down, “You’re still running a fever. That’s to be expected. At least it doesn’t seem to be too out of control now.” She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands fingering his bangs.

Even though he knew logically, that he was sick, and couldn’t really help it, Edward was embarrassed at how filthy his hair must seem, especially with having put that smoothing tonic in it the night of the party.  Now it must just look a greasy mess.  He must stink.  He hated not to be clean.  It was one thing to be a boy and get dirty and scuffed up.  It was another to be three or four days without bath.

“Ed,” Winry began, her expression speculative. “You know how I suggested a bath earlier?”

Had that really been today? He had seemed so much worse then, he could hardly remember.  “Yah…” he breathed. “I think so.  I wasn’t too with it when you got here Winry. You know?”

“Well, I did,” she said. “You’ll just have to take my word for it.” Edward must have made a face, or looked doubtful, because Winry pointed a finger at him. “I meant it when I said I would,” she told him.  “If you’ll let me.”

“Aw, Winry, come on. How am I going to get a bath like this?” Edward wanted to know.  His eyes fell on the crutch for a moment, but he shook his head then.  “Listen, as much as I may feel better and stronger than I was a few hours ago,” _Was_ _it really only a few hours ago?_   “And as much as I might whine about it, I don’t really think I can manage that yet. I think I’ll just have to bear with it a little longer.”

Winry huffed and rolled her eyes. “You think I can’t carry you Ed?  I lugged your arm and leg all over Amestris last time in that heavy travelling case.” She pouted.

“It’s not that Win,” Edward protested. “Well… maybe a little. Or maybe I just don’t want you to carry me. I’m more awkward, and I’m weak and won’t be much help.”

Another huffing sigh came from Winry, her mouth a thin line, and Edward knew she was getting annoyed with him.  “I’ll go start the water, and come back for you.  If you won’t let me carry you piggy back, you can throw your arm around my shoulders and I’ll be your other leg for you.  Your crutch won’t hold onto you like I will.”

Edward decided it was probably best not to argue with her at this point.  Besides, if Winry thought he was strong enough, maybe it would be all right. Alphonse would be too busy worrying about whether Edward would overdo it.  Winry was right about one thing. Men were not much good at taking care of other men.  He was glad she was there to take care of him now.


	12. Cleaning Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Poor sick Edward Elric has improved a little under Winry’s treatment. After a little sleep, she decides that Edward needs a bath now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“It’s not that Win,” Edward protested. “Well… maybe a little. Or maybe I just don’t want you to carry me. I’m more awkward, and I’m weak and won’t be much help.”_
> 
> _Another huffing sigh came from Winry, her mouth a thin line, and Edward knew she was getting annoyed with him. “I’ll go start the water, and come back for you. If you won’t let me carry you piggy back, then you can throw your arm around my shoulders and I’ll be your other leg for you. Your crutch won’t hold onto you like I will.”_
> 
> _Edward decided it was probably best not to argue with her at this point. Besides if she thought he was strong enough, maybe it would be all right. Alphonse would be too busy worrying about whether Edward would overdo it. Winry was right about one thing. Men were not much good at taking care of other men. He was glad she was there to take care of him now._

**Date:** 08.Dec.19 - Monday  
 **Time:** 11:47  
 **Location:** Central City - Home of General Roy Mustang

Roy Mustang’s bathtub was a luxurious clawfoot slipper that Winry would have loved to have soaked in herself. In fact, she promised herself a long soak in it before she went to bed today.  For now, Edward needed it, and she concentrated on getting it ready for him.  She didn’t want it too hot. If it was, Edward might spike up another bad fever, and that was a fight of up and down she didn’t want him to go through again.  It needed to be warm enough that he wouldn’t get chilly though, and maybe even soak a little of the illness out of him, too.

Winry had kept the door to the bedroom Edward was in open as well as the bathroom door so she could hear if he made any noises or if he called to her.  Meanwhile, she found fresh towels and laid them out.  She felt a little guilty for digging in Edward’s shaving kit.  It seemed kind of like digging through someone’s purse. She was rewarded for her effort with a little bottle of shampoo. The bottle was the type you might find in a hotel, the well worn label told her it was old, but a little sniff of the contents revealed that it was filled with Edward’s brand, and wasn’t something he’d been carrying around forever.  Another box contained a well-used bar of soap that smelled of sandalwood.  These items she set on a small round table tucked in next to the tap end of the tub along with the towels, and a little wooden cup she’d found on the counter.

A second door in the linen cabinet turned out to have bed linens, and Winry considered that an added bonus.  Now she could change the ones on Edward’s bed. There were two nice comfortable looking armchairs in the bowed end of the room by the windows, and she thought Edward could probably stand to sit in one for a few minutes while she took care of that. She turned off the taps, double checked the temperature of the water and taking the linens, headed back to the bedroom.

A little smile formed on her face at the scene.  Edward was still awake, sitting as she had left him, with pillows tucked behind him so he would be as comfortable as possible. Ralph lounged happily across the young man’s lap with all four legs in the air while Edward’s hand absently stroked the dog’s belly.  His head was turned away from her and he didn’t seem to hear her come in, his attention on the windows across the room. Winry’s brow furrowed a little, her smile flattening as her lips compressed.  “Ed?” she called.

He started slightly, but when he turned to look at her, he offered a wistful little smile. That one.  It nearly broke her heart every time she saw it.

“You okay, Honey?”  Winry sat on the edge of the bed next to him. Her hand brushed dirty bangs out of the way to feel his face, checking for fever.  His cheek was rough. Edward needed a shave, but she didn’t think he’d let her shave him, even if he had a razor she could use.  It was probably a little beyond what he was willing to let her do for him.

“I’m okay,” he told her. He sounded so tired.

Winry wondered if it might be better to let him sleep a little again before going to the bath. _Then again_ , she reminded herself, _he can sleep in the tub some if he wants to. It’ll relax him, and once he’s clean he’ll rest better anyway. Ed hates being filthy._ “Okay.” She nodded. “Listen, I found some clean linens.  Why don’t we change the bed, huh?” she suggested, knowing there was not going to be any ‘we’ to it.  “I’ll help you over to that chair so you can look out the window for a few minutes while I take care of it.  I don’t want to get you all clean and put you back in a bed you’ve been sweating in for days, okay?”

Edward nodded, glancing again over to the windows.  “Yah,” he said softly. “Okay.”

Winry decided at that moment that she really hated Edward being so acquiescent.  At the very least, she hated the reason that he was.  She also decided that the way Edward’s room was arranged was completely unacceptable.  “Right,” she said putting her hands together for a moment, thinking about the best way to do this.  They’d taken Edward’s pajamas off to get to his automail leg, and he might be embarrassed now.  The top blanket on the bed was just an extra one, a small fleece laid on top of the others to help Edward stay warm.  She pulled that one off the bed, and looped it over her arm while she pushed the rest of the blankets and sheets out of her way, letting the fleece lie draped across his midsection. “Okay, Ed.” She smiled.  “Let’s get up first, okay?”

Edward nodded. He was off balance, and needed a little support, but he was able to sit up on the edge of the bed on his own.  Winry sat down on his left, hip to hip with him, pulling the blanket around behind him so she could hold it around his waist. “Put your arm around my shoulders, okay?” she pulled his arm over her shoulder more firmly when he did and scooted in tight next to him. “Just remember, I’m your left leg now. It’ll be like a three legged race, only my right leg will be the only middle leg, and we don’t have to run.”

She got a little chuckle out of him for that. “Sounds easy,” Edward told her with a trace of his usual cocky grin.

“Sure, it’ll be great,” Winry told him. “And this’ll be good practice for when we go down the hall to the bath, ready?” He nodded, so she pulled them both up.  She felt him shake a little as they rose. He was definitely weak and she was going to have to work on that, but once he was up, he was okay. Winry knew Edward wouldn’t like to admit to how much of his weight she was carrying as they traversed the few steps across the room.

Getting Edward into the chair was a little trickier. It wasn’t quite wide enough for Winry to just sit hip to hip with him as she had on the bed.  But she managed it, and thought that in the process she might have worked out how she would get him back out of it in a minute to go to the tub. She tucked the ottoman under his foot and made sure he didn’t need a blanket while he sat there.

Winry made quick work of the bed.  While she worked she made idle chatter to Edward. He didn’t say much back. He seemed more interested in just watching what was going on outside.  “It snowed a lot,” he observed at some point.

“Yeah,” Winry told him as she tucked his pillows into fresh white cases.  “They were saying on the radio that it’s some kind of record for this area.  “I guess we get more than most people would expect us to in Rezembool since we’re kind of up in the mountains. So it’s a little colder in winter than other places so far south.”

“Sure,” Edward agreed.  “It’s pretty though,” he said, leaning up for a better look.  “They have the road all clear and the sidewalks shoveled now.”

“I heard a lot of noise earlier, and when I looked out, they had a snow plough going up the street.” Winry told him as she tucked in the top sheet at the foot of the bed.

Edward shook his head.  “It doesn’t normally snow like this here.  I mean it snows, but not like this. That little kid is up to his waist in it!” He pointed out the window grinning a bit.  “They’re building a snowman, but the snow is so deep they can hardly roll the ball around.”

Winry finished the bed and came back to the chair, sitting on the arm of it, her hand resting on his shoulder to watch with him for a few minutes.  _What a simple thing for Edward to be so amused by_ , she thought. “Looks like they’re having fun though,” she observed aloud.  “You remember that year we had that blizzard and the snow drifts were so high in the hollows that we could burrow long tunnels in them?”

“Yah,” Edward nodded absently, his eyes a little glazed in remembrance.  “We built that giant igloo too.”

Winry chuckled that Edward remembered that thing.  It had started out as big pile of snow that had been moved there after the roads had finally been cleared up their way.  Probably if they saw it now it wouldn’t have seemed so great. “That thing was probably a death trap, and you and Al wouldn’t even let me in there the first day.”

Edward rolled his eyes a little. “I know,” he said. “But when we told you that it was for boys only, it was really because we wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to fall in on us before we let you in there.”

Winry rolled her eyes back. “Figures.  It always has to be some sweet protective gesture with you two. And you always manage to make it seem like it’s because you’re jerks.”

“Sorry,” Edward hung his head a little. “We… I… Never mean it like that, Win.”

Winry stroked his shoulder gently.  “I know that now, Ed,” she told him, not wanting him to look so ashamed.  “You guys have always tried to take care of me ever since Mom and Dad died.” She brightened a little, getting up again. “Now it’s time for me to take care of you, so let’s get up and have that bath, okay?” She held her arm out to him, ready to lean down and get his arm back around her shoulders. It was a little harder than getting Edward out of bed had been, but in a moment they were back on their feet, their gait awkward and slow on their way to the bathtub.

Getting some hydration into Edward had definitely helped him, but Edward was out of breath by the time they got there. Winry set him down on the commode to rest, because there was room for her to get beside him to pull him up for the last step to the tub itself. There were a few things she needed to do for him before he could get in.  “Edward, do you know where your plugs are?” she asked really hoping he did. She might have a set in her gear, but that meant leaving him sitting there long enough to dig them out, and they weren’t likely to be a perfect fit made specifically for Edward’s ports.

“They should be in my kit.  There’s a little compartment at the end–”

“Got ’em.” Winry displayed the things in the palm of her hand. “Ed, these are not clean,” she ground out. “You can’t put these in your ports like this.”

Edward cringed a little, and Winry grunted in satisfaction as she moved to the sink to scrub them.  “If you think you have problems now, wait till you put grunge like this into your ports,” she grumbled while she worked, more because she knew he expected it. The more normal and routine that she could be, the less chance Edward would really worry about his condition. Winry had decided that she should be the one to worry about him. Edward needed his mind to rest, too. Fever did ugly things to Edward’s head sometimes, and she’d rather he feel relaxed and safe, and that meant he needed to feel like nothing unusual was going on.  So she rambled on as she dried the rubber, careful not to leave behind any fibers from the towel.

“I’m sorry, Win,” Edward said finally when she handed him the jar of bio-grease to hold for her.  “I couldn’t tell you the last time I needed those for anything.  I didn’t know they were getting dirty.”

Winry rolled her eyes. “What happened to the case I gave you?” She wanted to know as she spread the oily medicine all the way around both plugs.

“You gave me a case?” Edward asked, closing his eyes for a moment. “I don’t know…Maybe you did…” he made a soft little noise of frustration. “I’m sorry, Win. I can’t think too straight right now. I don’t remember.”

Worry creased Winry’s brow. She touched his cheek with the backs of her fingers, not wanting to get the oily paste on his face.  He wasn’t any more feverish.  It just burned under the surface at the moment, but Winry didn’t want to be caught unawares if he started to spike.  “Never mind, Honey. I’ll make sure you have one later.”

Edward’s expression eased somewhat and she patted his knee. “Let me put this plug in your leg port, okay? We don’t want water getting into the port connections.”  Lifting the blanket from his stump, Winry had the device in place with a quick twist.

“Right,” Edward agreed. “I guess they’re rusty enough.”

“Rusty?” Winry asked a little louder than she meant to. The idea of Edward’s ports rusting was alarming.  “They can’t be rusting, Ed.”  She dropped down onto her heels so she could see what she was doing. “Alphonse said the outer contacts seemed corroded. That’s not the same thing as rusting, okay?  It’s the same problem you had with your leg port last year.  Don’t worry; we’ll get it straightened out. This will just keep water from getting in there.” Winry held up the plug that went into his shoulder port.  “Water on this side of the contact can cause feedback,” she explained, “or it can feel like static, like when you get water in your ears.”

“It feels like that already.”

“Does it?” Winry asked looking up at him, the concerned crease in her brow back.  She got him to turn a little as she tried to get a look inside of it. Then , sighing, she shook her head. “I’ll have to look later, Ed. The light in here isn’t good enough.”  She dipped her finger into the bio-grease and swiped the inside of the port channel.  “I don’t know…” She studied the residue left on her finger. “It really looks like the same problem, Ed.  It doesn’t surprise me. We’ll just have to see how extensive it is, but you can’t put this repair off any longer.” She got the plug into position. “It may be a little uncomfortable for a second,” she told him just before she pushed it home.

The pressure obviously hurt him.  He grunted, and ground his teeth together, his lips pressed into a flat grimace over them.

“Okay, Ed.” She said patted his knee again, trying to soothe him. “I’m finished, okay? No more of that.”

Edward let his breath out.  He slouched, his elbow against the outer socket of his leg, and his face in his hand.

“You okay?” Winry stroked his back, careful of the socket assembly and conscious of how sore that area was. “What are you feeling, Edward?” She didn’t like how he was shaking.

After a moment, Edward let his hand drop and she took it in hers, patting the back of it. “Just hurt,” he mumbled. “Bad.” He swallowed, sighing.

“You tell me if you feel like you’re going to throw up, Edward,” Winry warned him. He shook his head but she reached for the bottle of ginger ale she’d brought with the rest of her supplies and opened it. “Okay. Here, take a little sip of this anyway, all right?”

Edward took a short drink while she steadied the bottle for him, and then amazingly volunteered information. “When you put that thing in, it was–it was like you said water felt, you know? Like static. But it felt like it was in my head, too. Made me dizzy for a minute.”

Winry frowned. “You okay now?” She wanted to get him into the tub and try to do something for him.  They’d come this far and it seemed unfair to get him ready, only to go back to bed dirty because he started feeling too ill.

“I think so…” he mumbled, sounding exhausted.  “Could stand a nap.”

“Okay,” Winry agreed.  “Let’s get you into the tub though, all right?  You can nap in there once you’re clean if you want.  It’ll be good for you to soak a little while.”

Edward nodded once, closing his hand as it lay across his lap and then opening it again.

Winry moved into position, pulling his arm over her shoulder, her fingers picking up the edges of the blanket at his hip as she pulled him up. She was carrying even more of his weight. He was definitely more tired now, but they only had to cross two steps, and then she had him sitting against the edge of the tub. “Okay… You can’t take this in the tub with you, Ed,” she said tugging on the blanket a little.   
“Here, we’ll switch.” She offered him a hand towel, and let him hold it over himself while she got the blanket out of the way.

It was hard not to laugh at how modestly Edward held onto that towel, as if she hadn’t already seen everything he had plenty of times at various ages, including only a few hours ago when she’d been treating that bruise. That reminded her she wanted a look at it now.  She touched his elbow, meaning to nudge it upwards so he would move his forearm out of her way, but his balance was awkward here. “I better just wait to look at that, Ed. But I do want another look at that bruise when we get done here, okay?”

Edward frowned, and avoided her eyes.  She guessed he was too sick to blush, but his expression was pretty much the same as if he had.

“I just want to make sure it’s not getting ignored because of everything else going on with you, Edward,” she said gently, stroking his shoulder. “I’m not trying to embarrass you, okay? Let’s get you in the tub.”

That part was awkward for a moment, but then Winry got the idea that if she could get him to sit on the dry washcloth for a moment, then she could just help him spin around. Once his foot was down in the water, she pushed him up enough to get the wash cloth out from under him.  With Edward still sitting on the edge of the tub, she soaped him up, scrubbed his back and neck and under his arm.  Everywhere she could get to that he would let her, she washed. She let him take care of his own face, and the other parts he was so concerned about. Though he was slow at it, before long she was helping him get down into the warm water so he could relax against the back of the slipper.

“Okay, Ed,” Winry said picking up his little bottle and the wooden cup. She wasn’t too hot on the idea of having him dunk his hair down in the water as tired as he was.  She’d have a hard time pulling him back up into a comfortable position.  Right now, his knee was locked and that was keeping him pretty firmly in place.  “You just relax for a minute,” she told him.  “I’ll wash your hair.  It’s really a mess.”

Edward mumbled something completely incomprehensible in response.  Winry was pretty sure that in the man’s mind it was a stunning expression of his feelings on that, complete with various colorful words and phrases. She didn’t need to hear the exact words to roll her eyes at it.  Carefully shielding his face, Winry poured water over his hair until it was as wet as she could get it given how oily it was right now.

As tired as he obviously was, it was equally obvious how thoroughly he enjoyed having her wash his hair. The first time through, Winry concentrated on his scalp, massaged the shampoo into it, reaching her fingers behind his head, across the crown, the temples and all over.  She let the rest of his hair hang while she scrubbed the roots and then worked some of the soap into the ends as well almost as an after thought to her primary focus. 

Edward sighed several times, his eyes closed.  A soft moan from him sounded more like a purr, and he murmured, “You better stop that,” then added “maybe in a couple hundred years or something, okay?”

“Sure, Ed,” Winry agreed with a gentle smile as she rinsed his head.  “Maybe I better just do that one more time to make sure it’s real clean first.”

“You don’t see me stopping you do you?” he opened one eye a slit and gazed at her until she poured another handful of shampoo.

“Nope,” this time Winry started at the scalp, but once she had the shampoo worked up decently well, she piled the rest of his hair into it and gave it all a good scrubbing.  This time, Edward seemed very well pleased with rinsing.  Winry wasn’t satisfied, though.  His hair felt pretty dry and brittle now.  “Hey Ed?” she said gently.

“What’s up?” he asked cracking open one ochre eye a bit to look at her.

“You really need a rinse on your hair.”

“You just rinsed it,” he reminded her dubiously the other eye opening now as well. “Why do you need to rinse it again?”

Winry shook her head. “No, Ed,” she corrected. “You need a cream rinse.  A rinse out conditioner.  Your hair is really dry. It’s probably because you’re sick, and it was so dirty too. You don’t have any?”

Edward shook his head a little, frowning. “I don’t think men are supposed to use that stuff, Winry,” he told her.

Winry snorted and rolled her eyes at that.  “Ed… When you have the barber wash your hair for you why do you suppose it feels so nice?”

“I don’t know,” Edward said tiredly. “Let me guess. He puts stuff on it…” it was more of a statement, like he knew the answer already.

“Bingo!” Winry smirked.  “Look, I’ve got some in my bag.  Just let me go get it, okay? You be good for half a minute, and don’t drown, all right?”

“But I don’t want any stinky girl stuff!” Edward groused.

Winry narrowed her eyes at him.  “You don’t like the way I smell?” she demanded.

“No!” Edward cried miserably, “I love the way you–” he cut himself awkwardly, but the statement caused Winry to raise an eyebrow.  “I just don’t want to smell like a girl!”

Winry snorted. “You’ll just have to deal with it for a day or so ‘til Al or someone can go and get you some decent hair cream then,” she said. “It’s not like mine is going to leave you in a cloud of perfume, anyway. I know you can’t stand it, so I don’t use it!” She stopped then, blinking in surprise that she’d let such an admission loose.

Edward didn’t seem to notice though. He rolled his eyes and then closed them again, obviously too tired to argue it any further. 

Winry ran her tongue out at him even though he couldn’t see it, and with a quick whirl and flick of her pony tail, she flounced out.  She knew she was only gone a few seconds.  She hadn’t needed to dig for her rinse, but when she came back in, Edward had fallen asleep. She hated the idea of waking him. Instead of doing it directly, Winry decided to rub the rinse in while he slept, and if he woke, fine, if not, all that much better.  For the time being, though he mumbled a little, he didn’t wake up. She let the conditioner soak for a while, and he slept.  She ran a little more hot water into the tub just to keep it from cooling off too much, then sat on the little vanity stool to let Edward rest while he could.

Mentally, Winry was running through a list of all the things she was going to need to do for Edward, considering that port and what she’d gone through with his other one to get things right again. She hadn’t even seen what was left of his arm yet.  The dust that had come out of his port concerned her though.  She had replaced his leg socket completely.  Not a single original part remained, except for the actual nerve connector ends where they were wrapped into the nerve fiber.  Even the bone socket and support parts had been replaced.

His arm socket–that was a whole different animal when it came to replacing parts.  Whatever it was that had taken Edward’s arm had taken all of it.  Shoulder joint and all were gone, and that made his connection so much more complicated than if there had been even a little stump left.  Some of Edward’s shoulder parts were deep into his chest and back, anchored to what bones were available to rebuild the missing shoulder joint.  The big ones obviously were the clavicle and scapula anchors.  There were others though, that acted more as stabilizers.  Some of Edward’s upper ribs were reinforced, for example, to help support the weight of the connections. 

Winry sighed, reaching a hand over to stroke Edward’s hair.  She decided to go ahead and rinse it through now, careful not to run the water into his face.  The water was still warm, but it was starting to cool again.  “Ed,” she called gently, stroking his warm cheek. “Wake up honey, let’s get you back to bed now, okay?”

“My ass is getting sore,” Edward grumped at her as his eyes drifted open.

“Well isn’t that a nice greeting.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on… Let’s get you out, okay?  You feel any better?”

Edward considered his answer for a while. “Maybe a little.” He let her help him sit up.  “I’m just so tired. I really feel wiped out, Winry.”

“I know.” Winry pulled his hair back into a loose rope and, holding it with one hand, ran her hand down it with the other to run out some of the water. Giving it a quick twist, she put it over his left shoulder out of the way, and reached to pull the drain plug. “Okay, we’re going to come out just like we got in okay?” Winry got him to turn sideways in the tub. “You can guide yourself, but you can let me do most of the lifting.  You hear me Edward?” she asked this last, setting her hand on top of his head for emphasis.

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled “I get it. I’m not a baby.”

Winry let out a little huff. “I know you’re not, Ed.  But sometimes you don’t think.  This isn’t the time for bravado.  Just let me lift you and save your strength for walking back to bed, okay? I’ll do my best to get you stronger.”

Edward rumbled some low noise in his chest, but he put his arm back for balance and Winry took it as an acquiescent sound.  Once he was balanced on the edge of the tub, she wrapped the towel around his waist, though he seemed a little less distraught about her seeing him naked than he had been before.  If nothing else, the bath had relaxed him. Winry helped him over to sit on the vanity stool now that it was in a good place for him.  It wouldn’t be as cold as the toilet seat, and Edward was shivering a little now that he was out of the warm water.

Winry pulled another towel out of the linen closet and gently dried his hair, letting him lean against her while she dried his arm and back, then his chest before she dropped down to finish with his foot. “Ed,” she said quietly, her hand resting on his knee. “Listen, will you let me take a better look at that bruised hip before we put on your pants?”

Edward frowned, and his eyes slid to one side, focused on the floor.

“Dammit, Ed, I know it’s embarrassing because of where it is, but it’s a bad bruise–bad enough to cause some shock all by itself and I want to make sure I know what’s going on with it so I can treat it properly. The light may not be good enough to see into your port, but at least I can see this better. Besides, it’ll be easier while you’re not dressed.  Let’s not argue about this, okay? I don’t want you sitting here for a long time getting cold.  I want to get a look at it, so I can decide how to take care of it better, and then I want to get you dressed and back in bed so you can rest.

Such a long sigh came out of Edward. His gaze didn’t shift much.  His eyes might have lowered a bit, but his hand shifted the towel around his waist so that he would stay covered and then dropped the other side so that she could see the ugly livid bruise. Winry shook her head, and pushed his stump gently outward.  He winced, though he tried to hide it. “It hurts even moving it out like that?” she asked looking up at him.

“It’s all right,” Edward didn’t raise his eyes. “It’s just a little tender.”

“I can see that.” The bruise in this strong artificial light was awful, worse than it had looked under the gas light in Edward’s room.  Large, blotchy almost black areas ringed the perimeter, but in the center the bruise appeared lighter. Despite that, there was no doubt in her mind that central part was the very worst.   Winry probed delicately. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said automatically, when he grunted. “I know it hurts, but I need to know if any of your bones are injured.  It could be very serious and we have to be careful.  You can’t afford an injury that could cause arthritis in this hip.” She did her best to be gentle, but let her fingers feel the rotation of his joint as she moved his leg a little.

“Okay,” she finally said, rising, and pulling the towel back up and the rest of the way around him. Her hand settled on his forehead. He was only a little warm.  “Let’s get your pajamas back on, okay?” She pushed his bangs back from his face.

“Uh… Win?” Edward raised his eyes to her for a fraction of a second, and then he flicked them to his right, in the direction of the toilet and she understood exactly why he seemed uncomfortable.

“You have to pee now?”

Edward nodded, biting his lip. “Sorry…”

“No, It’s okay, Ed,” Winry told him. “Actually it’s good. It means you’re not so dehydrated.  You’re not throwing up as often, and the IV fluids I gave you helped too.  Now as long as we can keep your stomach from getting too rebellious with you, so you can keep liquids down, I think you’ll be okay.” She studied the situation for a minute.  “Do you want to sit or stand? I don’t care which you want to do.  If you stand, I can’t turn away, not that I’m going to stare obviously, but we also don’t have to get you back up.  On the other hand, if you sit, I can turn my back, and once you’re finished we can just finish dressing you over there.”

“I’ll–I’ll sit, okay?” he answered. “Is that okay?”

“Sure, Ed.”   Obviously he was very conscious of her, but it was unlike him to be so worried about giving the answer he thought she wanted.  She guessed it was the fever.  It seemed like Edward fussed more about things that ought to be inconsequential like that when he was feverish. It didn’t take much of a fever either. Just a slight elevation in temperature and he started worrying out loud, every little concern of his came out.  “However you’re most comfortable doing it. Let’s go now, okay?” she crouched next to him, and pulled his arm around her shoulder, her hand low on his ribs to avoid the tender area around his shoulder socket.

_Poor Ed_ , she thought, once they’d finally finished in the bathroom and were on their way back to his room. _He’s such a mess. I really have my work cut out for me this time._ It didn’t matter.  He might have a long road back this time, but she’d walk it with him, just as she walked this little stretch of hallway with him.

Edward slept almost instantly when she got him into bed. Gently, so as not to disturb him, Winry pushed him onto his side. She pulled his hair out from under his face, and brushed it out for him, weaving it into a loose braid that she dropped back across his shoulder.  He rolled onto his back as soon as she let him with a long mumbling sigh.  “You’ll be okay, Edward.” Winry stroked his bangs as he slept.  “I’m not about to let you fall apart now, just when your life is finally becoming your own again.”  That was a promise she meant to keep.  Even if she was doomed to remain in the sidelines of his life, she’d support him as she always had.  Now that it was safe again, Winry leaned down and gave Edward a soft kiss on the forehead.  He’d never know she did it, just like always, but it made her feel better.


	13. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Edward Elric is ill with an infection in the socket of his automail shoulder. Winry gets Edward a nice warm bath believing it will make him feel better to be clean. Afterwards, she settles him in bed and he sleeps almost immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Poor Ed** , she thought, once they’d finally finished in the bathroom and were on their way back to his room. **He’s such a mess. I really have my work cut out for me this time.** It didn’t matter. He might have a long road back this time, but she’d walk it with him, just as she walked this little stretch of hallway with him._
> 
> _Edward slept almost instantly when she got him into bed. Gently, so as not to disturb him, she pushed him onto his side, pulling his hair out from under his face, and brushed it out for him, weaving it into a loose braid that she dropped back across his shoulder, he rolling onto his back as soon as she let him with a long mumbling sigh. “You’ll be okay, Edward,” she said softly, stroking his bangs as he slept. “I’m not about to let you fall apart now, just when your life is finally becoming your own again.” That was a promise she meant to keep even if she was doomed to remain in the sidelines of his life even now, she’d support him as always. Now that it was safe again, Winry leaned down and gave Edward a soft kiss on the forehead. He’d never know she did it. Just like always, but it made her feel better._

**Date:** Unknown  
 **Time:** Afternoon  
 **Location:** Ed and Winry’s house

Edward stretched his back in the big lounge chair.  He didn’t know why he was aching so badly today. It wasn’t rainy, the sun was out and it was nice to just relax. Still, he thought he could stand a massage or something.  His automail limbs especially ached, even with the white sleeves over them to keep the sun from heating them up while he basked in it. He thought there must be rain coming soon.

“How’re you doing, Ed?” he heard Winry ask. Her fingers skimmed his forehead and combed through his hair for a moment. Edward smiled. He would never get tired of her touch.

“I’m all right. He opened his eyes to look up at her.  Her beauty had never diminished any.  The finest of lines had begun around her eyes now. They were barely even noticeable, but Edward knew they were really his fault. “Can I have a little drink?” he asked.

Winry offered him the cup of iced lemonade he’d left on the table. He’d forgotten about it, but she held it for him while he sipped, the cool liquid tasting wonderful going down.

“Why don’t you stretch out and relax with me for a while,” he asked, reaching for her with his flesh hand so he didn’t knock the sleeve off his other one.

“Not now, honey.” Winry took his hand, squeezing it briefly. “Al is bringing some parts up and I’m going to try to get a good look at your arm. Besides,” she poked the end of his nose with one finger, “You’re busy watching the kids playing down below.”  Her hand settled on the top of his head for a moment. “You want your arm fixed don’t you?”

“Oh.” Disappointed, Edward raised his flesh hand to his shoulder as he remembered that the arm attached to it was temporary.  How could he forget something like that? The weight of it didn’t even feel right, now that he thought about it. It really felt like nothing. “Yah, but Win,” he said, recovering quickly. “Just for a little while, okay?  The kids are all the way down in the bottom of the yard.  I can hear them.”

Winry shook her head and walked away, an amused smile on her face. She seemed so ethereal. Everything seemed just a little too bright, a little too colorful. The laughter of the children floated up to him from the bottom end of the yard. They were calling to him, and for a long moment, Edward was torn between answering them or going after Winry with her teasing grin. 

Edward got up, deciding to follow Winry.  He got a few steps, but something wasn’t right with his leg. His grin faded as he looked down. “Winry’s going to kill me,” he muttered, watching as his leg disintegrated.  He didn’t even know what he’d done to it, but she was going to be angry anyway. Edward struggled on another step. Parts were falling off now, but as they hit the ground, each one would liquefy and soak into the grass.  “Dammit,” he grumbled. “That’s just weird. The hell is going on here? Win?” He called after her, but she didn’t seem to hear him. Her long blond pony tail swayed enticingly behind her.

He couldn’t reach her. Instead Edward fell, hard. Then _he_ melted into the grass as well. For a little while, he thought he would just lie there, and maybe after a while Winry would come and put him back together again. She always did. No matter how big of a mess he made, she could always sort it out.  Edward sighed, and in the process, he soaked through the sod into the underworld. _What?_ He sat up, disoriented. _How the hell did I get here?_ _I don’t believe in hell, remember?_ That wasn’t exactly true. He had spent two years all but convinced that the world he had wound up in on the other side of the gate was somehow his own personal hell. 

“Winry?” Edward called again, forcing down the panic that suddenly flared.  He couldn’t walk.  His leg was gone. His arm was gone now, too, though he didn’t remember it coming off. All he had were empty sockets. It was like when he’d awakened on the far side of that thrice damned gate.  No, this time he could hear the kids playing overhead.  The sound was muffled. He couldn’t make out anything they were saying, but they had so much imagination that it was anyone’s guess what they were playing now.

It was too dark under here.  How the hell could he be under the turf? It was like a big cave, and there was a reddish light coming off the walls or something. Some sort of iridescence, but Edward couldn’t make it out. He couldn’t get close enough to get a good look. “God it’s hot,” he muttered, wiping the sweat off his face.  The sun had been pleasant, but this was beyond that agreeable heat. It was humid and sweltering down here.

A sharp scraping noise sounded near him.  He thought he felt something frigidly cold flutter around his face and raised a hand to ward it off.  How anything could be so cold in this burning place?  Edward couldn’t see anything in this red light. It was like being inside that homunculus again–that dream he had all the time, but couldn’t remember if it was real once he was awake–slogging through blood and bones and gore.  It was damp like that, too, the ground moist and sticky.  He felt like he was inside a cave made of raw meat.  Edward felt a sickness rise in him at that idea and he had to squelch it.

There was that scraping noise again. The calls of the children were becoming warped. They sounded like haunts now, the noise of them raking along his nerves, the weird distortion turning the youngsters into creatures hunting him through this deep maze of blood and flesh. Edward wasn’t inside Gluttony. That was always just one giant open field that went on infinitely in every direction.  This was enclosed, the walls close, the ceiling low. Edward crawled on, trying to escape the shrieks of those little monsters following him.

Beyond the next turn, he shrank back. Something big lunged at him. Edward couldn’t see it, but he had known it was there, had felt it.  He scrambled back into a smaller alcove as far as he could go.  They’d get him. The little ones would drag him out and the big one would have him as an appetizer right before it charged through this tight hole back into the real world and got Winry and Alphonse and everyone else he cared about.  No.  Edward would stay down here and protect them.  If he just sat here and kept himself plugged into this narrow passageway, this evil couldn’t get out.  It wouldn’t get out. They’d be safe, so there he sat huddled as far back as he could get, terrified but unwilling to move on up through the passageway into the real world again even though he knew now where it led.  He wanted to shriek, shrinking back as a giant clawed hand reached into the hole and fished around for him.  “Back off!” he cried. “I’m not going with you, so just back off and leave me alone!” He wrapped his arm around himself, freezing and sweating.  _Winry,_ he sobbed in his mind. _This is my fault._

* * *

 **Date:** 08.Dec.19 - Monday  
 **Time:** 16:39  
 **Location:** Central City - Home of General Roy Mustang

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Winry,” Alphonse told her. “The lab is down in the basement, but it’s under the public area of the house, so it’ll take me a minute to get down there.”

“That’s fine Al,” Winry smiled, watching him leave the room. She had gotten a couple hours of sleep herself now, while Alphonse sat with Edward.  The older Elric’s new medications seemed to be doing him some good.  Alphonse had reported happily that Edward often had periods where he felt nauseated, but that he’d only been sick one time while she’d been away, and that most of the time he could drink lemon water or ginger ale, both of which seemed to help.  For himself, Edward had spent most of the time sleeping, or complaining about sleeping all the time.

Winry sat on the edge of the bed.  She hated to wake him now that he was sleeping relatively quietly, but she thought it was important to at least give him a chance to tell her how he felt.  He would probably go right back to sleep, and that was a good thing even if he complained about it.  “How’re you doing, Ed?” Winry touched his forehead, feeling for fever.  He was a little warm, but not enough to worry her. After all, fever was the body’s natural defense as long as it didn’t get dangerously high.  Her fingers brushed through his hair a few times. The main thing with Edward was to keep him reassured and as comfortable as possible.  They all tried to make sure he didn’t get confused, or worry too much.

“I’m all right.” Edward opened his eyes.  They were dull and glazed as they studied her face.  He wet his lips slowly.  “Can I have a little drink?” he asked.

Winry offered him a drink from the cool lemon water on the bedside table.  It probably could stand some ice, but he took it anyway.  She wondered how awake he really was, especially given his next question.  “Why don’t you stretch out with me for a while?”

Tempting. It was so tempting, but… “Not now, honey.” Winry took his hand and squeezed it.  “Al is bringing some parts up and I’m going to try to get a good look at your arm. Besides,” She gave the end of his nose a playful tweak.  “We’re missing watching the kids playing in the snow.”  Smiling at him, Winry let her hand rest on the crown of his head. “You want your arm fixed, don’t you?”

“Oh,” Edward’s hand went over to the empty arm socket. His expression told her he’d forgotten about that. As his fingers felt it, he seemed less distressed about it than he had other times he’d woken without remembering what was going on with his arm.  Maybe it was because she’d just been talking about the repair.  Not like he had any hope of getting that arm back any time soon. Even if she totally rebuilt it, which it was definitely going to need, he wouldn’t be able to bear the weight of it until the infection cleared up and, even then, the cause of the infection had to be dealt with.  Winry wasn’t going to allow him to put it off again.  Chances were, Edward was going to be in a lightweight simple prosthetic for weeks before he could have his automail arm back.  None of these things seemed to worry him at the moment.  “Yah, but Win… Just for a little while, okay? The kids are all the way down in the bottom of the yard.  I can hear them.”

Now Winry was reasonably sure that, even though Edward’s eyes were open and he seemed to be looking at her, he wasn’t really awake.  She was just an echo inside his dream.  At least for the moment, it seemed like a good one. Her hand stroked his bangs as his eyes drifted closed and he was back into his own dream again, no longer halfway between waking and sleeping.  She petted all three dogs camped around Edward at the foot of the bed, resettling Ralph when he got up to wag his tail at her, the two terriers content to just lounge where they were.

Once she had the dogs situated, Winry walked to the window, stretching her arms over her head. She stared out into the snowy wonderland below, while she waited for Alphonse to come back up with Edward’s broken arm.  A group of children were playing in the deep snow, now that the weather had warmed up enough for their parents to bundle them up and send them out from under foot for a while. Two groups of them worked piling up snow on either side of the street, making fortifications for what promised to be a lovely snowball fight.  They might have a lot of time left before it started to get dark, but quite a bit of snow was already being thrown around, some in the form of balls lobbed across the street at would be opponents, and some just tossed into the gleeful reddened faces of their own compatriots.

Winry hugged her arms around herself, smiling.  She wanted some of these some day.  Children she could bundle up and send outside, then chide them for staying out too long and coming in too cold.  She loved their happy, carefree faces. They reminded her of the times when they–Edward, Winry and Alphonse–had been the ones playing in the snow, or running through the fields of flowers.  Either boy–or sometimes even both–occasionally suffered from a sweet moment and picked posies for her hair, or played house with her. They would alternate who was Daddy and who was the child. Edward had played the absolute brattiest child.  She chuckled at the memory, stifling her laugh when she heard Alphonse re-enter the room. 

Crossing the room quickly, Winry took the parts of Edward’s ruined arm from Alphonse’s hands, maybe a little too forcefully. Alphonse stepped back as if he expected her to smack him with it.  Winry rolled her eyes, carrying the arm to the windows and into better light.  Let him think that.  It kept those boys in line. Edward, she thought, even seemed to like the rough treatment a bit.  Winry wondered if he liked to play rough in bed, too.  She had to squelch a snicker as that thought crossed her mind. She kept her back to Alphonse, otherwise he’d want to know why she was suddenly blushing.  Though, given the condition of Edward’s arm, he might think it was a flush of rage. “Geeze!” Winry grumbled.  “This is a disaster!” She reached in and pulled out some of the broken contacts.

Alphonse joined her then, seemingly over his fright, wanting to see what she was looking at. “Doctor Sheridan said he didn’t know how it was even working.  He said ‘It must have been sheer will.’ or something like that.”

Winry shook her head at the mess. “I agree.  That boy is so stubborn. I don’t know how he was getting any response at all. Look.” She pointed where the main conduit had ruptured, then at some of the wires that protruded out from it. “There’s stuff in here that is melted.  Seriously, Al, as if the pain from the infection wasn’t bad enough, this had to be agony whenever these two wires touched each other.”  Winry poked at the wires with a forefinger, as if they were to blame for all of Ed’s current condition.  “Or any of these,” she added, pointing out another trio.

“Winry’s going to kill me,” Edward mumbled unhappily from the bed.  Winry glanced over to see if he needed anything, but he pulled himself onto his side with his back to her, and seemed to settle again.

“Can you move that dressing table over here, Al?” Winry asked. “I need a surface to work on for a while so I can see what’s going on in here.”

“Sure.” In a moment, Alphonse had pulled it over into the space that had originally been occupied by the chair that was now next to Edward’s bed. With a soft clap, he transmuted the top wood into a deeper bench that Winry could spread at least a few of her tools on while she disassembled the arm further to try to figure out where the disaster had started.

Edward was getting restless. Winry could hear him panting, his dream evidently disturbing him now.  Roxy and Moxy jumped off the bed and, a moment later, Ralph followed, all three of them trotting down the stairs.  Leaving Winry’s side, Alphonse went to check on his brother, patting a cool cloth on Edward’s face before laying it across his forehead.  Seeing Al shake his head, clearly worried, Winry joined him. 

“Dammit,” Edward muttered as Winry pulled the blankets down to his waist and off his flesh leg to just above the knee.

“He’s burning up again,” she sighed, keeping her voice soft.

“That’s just weird!” Edward cried. “The hell is going on here? Win?” He struggled with the blankets, restless little moves that made it clear he was in the grips of a nightmare. Winry took his hand, and sat in the chair next to him, but this time he didn’t seem aware of her despite calling for her.

“Winry?” He moaned.  “God, it’s hot.” He sweated like it was, even though Winry thought the room could have been a bit warmer. They were finding that the radiator could use some serious fine tuning.  Edward’s breathing went shallow and he swallowed uneasily, raising his hand to his mouth like he was going to be sick. Winry reached for the basin, her chair scraping noisily as she accidentally shoved it back. Alphonse moved it up a bit for her but she sat on the edge of the bed, ready.

He didn’t vomit after all. Instead, Edward reacted almost violently to the noise, or perhaps the slight shift of her weight on the mattress.  He drew back from the edge of the bed, away from her, and curled up tight. With a terrified shriek, Edward wrapped his arm around himself.  “Back off! I’m not going with you, so just back off and leave me alone!”

“Ed,” Winry touched his face. “It’s all right, honey. Just wake up, okay? It’s just a dream.”

“Ngg!” Edward moaned. He jerked away, squeezing his eyes shut, but when she called his name again, his body started to relax. Winry thought he was starting to wake up.

“That’s right, wake up, honey,” she encouraged.  “It’s just a bad dream. Everything is fine.” What horror had his mind dredged up this time to torment him with, Winry didn’t think she wanted to know.  Sometimes Edward told her his dreams now.  Sometimes, though, he still wouldn’t. They were too terrible for him to articulate. Alphonse had explained to her that it was because he dreamed of things that had really happened–things that should never have been allowed to happen.  Edward wouldn’t speak of them, because he didn’t want the memories in his present waking life. It was enough that they disturbed his dreams. Winry could accept that, but she couldn’t let Edward stay in this dream. Not today; not with a fever that could very well confuse him even when he was awake. Winry knew if she wasn’t very careful how she pulled him out of it, there could be repercussions. Edward could waken thinking himself in another place and time as he had days before.  She talked to him soothingly; glad to see him relaxing a little more.

Before long, Edward rolled onto his back again.  His gold eyes opened suddenly, his breath coming in little gasps as the dream finally let go of him and he woke.  He blinked a few times and then closed his eyes again, swallowing nervously.  “Win?” he sighed. “I’m back.”  He said it hesitantly. It sounded like he wasn’t so sure.  Edward stroked the strand of hair that flowed down her cheek in front of her ear.  “How did I get back?  I was in–”

“You didn’t go anywhere Ed,” Winry interrupted him gently.  “You had a nightmare, that’s all.”

“I did?” He glanced around for a moment, his expression worried. “Win…where are the kids?”

“The kids?” she asked, confused. “Oh… outside?”

“They’re outside?” Alarmed, Edward pushed himself up, panic giving him strength as he tried to get out of bed. Winry prevented him, and his hand inevitably wrapped itself up in the fabric of her clothing.  “Get them in the house.  I just saw a–” his eyes fell on his brother. “Wait…” Edward blinked, his face screwing up as he struggled to think straight. “I was dreaming just now, wasn’t I? You said I was dreaming.”

“Yes, Brother,” Alphonse walked around to the other side of the bed. “You’ve been sick, remember?”

“Real sick.” Winry set the basin aside since he didn’t seem to need it after all.  She patted Edward’s cheeks and throat with the compress she’d neatly caught when he had bolted upright.  “Your fever is back, so I think you must have had a nightmare, Ed.  Everything is fine. There’s nothing here to hurt you.” She took his hand, slowly extricating it from her dress, and petted it to soothe him. 

“Or anyone else,” Alphonse added.

“Nothing?” Edward looked from Winry to his brother and then back again, his hand clutching hers.  “It’s okay?”

“Everything is fine, Brother,” Alphonse offered, though his face remained worried.

“What day is it?” he wanted to know. 

Winry exchanged a glance with Alphonse. This was one of the questions Edward asked almost every time he woke out of a bad dream.  “It’s still Monday, honey.  Just getting into late afternoon, okay?” Since he was sitting up, Winry got her hand free and unbuttoned his damp pajama shirt.

“Ng!” He groaned, closing his eyes for a moment, hardly seeming to notice Winry gently pulling the shirt off and handing it to Alphonse. “The closing!” he cried, slapping his hand over his eyes.

“It’s all right, Brother.” Alphonse spread the shirt over the back of the vanity chair where it could dry, and dug in the dresser for a fresh one.

“That’s right, Ed.” Winry wrung out a clean facecloth. She used it to wipe the sour sweat from the nightmare and fever off his back. “Al already took care of it.”

“He did?” Edward asked, his eyes moving between the two of them a couple of times.

“I did, Brother,” Al said, coming back with a clean pair of pajamas.

Winry patted the sweat off his chest working the cloth up his neck and throat, cooling Edward while wiping away the sourness. “Al called them when he got up today, Ed.”

“The phones are working now,” Alphonse interjected.

“He called the agent at home, and it’s all set up now. They’ll come here Wednesday at ten, so you can sign.”

Alphonse went on.  “The agent said everyone would be happy to do that, Ed.”

“Mmm…” Edward nodded, his eyes closing for a moment. “Probably just want to see inside the bastard’s house.”

“That’s not very nice, Edward,” Winry admonished.  “Mr. Mustang is still sleeping after going to so much trouble to get me here for you.”

Edward frowned, but he turned his head away, looking like a little boy chastised by his mother. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Never mind, now.” She smiled, petting his hair.  “You’re not well.  You ought to be resting yourself, and not giving yourself nightmares.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Edward sounded petulant.

“I know, Ed.” Winry worked his arm into the clean shirt.  Once she had it on him, she got up, and settled him back against the pillows to check him over again. “You need to take some medicines now, okay?”

Now Edward was more petulant.  He didn’t like taking the medicine.  Winry had noticed that Edward was most likely to argue about it when he was feverish and most needed it.  His arm folded over his chest as if he had both of them to cross belligerently.

Alphonse backed off a pace, making Winry wonder what her face looked like.  “What?” she demanded of the younger brother.

“I…” Alphonse hesitated, a little wide eyed. “I thought I’d just go let the dogs outside for a few minutes while he takes his medicine.” 

For just a moment, Winry thought Alphonse had a twinkle in his eye that might indicate he thought Edward deserved whatever he got for arguing with Winry. _Especially_ , she thought, _after giving Al such a hard time over it when no one was even here to back him up._

As if on cue, Ralph appeared in the doorway, his tail wagging in response to the word ‘outside’ being spoken within earshot.

Winry rolled her eyes.  “Fine, Al,” she said. “That’s fine, but put them in the run for a little while after. I don’t want them coming up here all wet and doggy smelling to roll around all over Ed’s bed.  They can stay in the run until they’re nice and dry again. Alphonse nodded his understanding and started to go.  “They probably want to be fed, too,” she said, stopping him in his tracks.

“Okay Winry,” he said.  “I know where the Chairman keeps the stuff he feeds them.” He started to leave again.

“And while you’re at it,” Winry stopped him again, “You could make us something to eat.  I don’t care what, but make it something simple that Ed can handle too.  He needs a little something to go with his pills.  He could have milk–”

“Or NOT!” Edward burst out, kicking his foot under the covers.

“Milk is good for you, Ed,” Winry told him, her voice matter of fact.

“It’s revolting!”

“Don’t be a baby.”

“Quit trying to get me to drink that shit!” He squealed.

“I’ll just make us some food.” Alphonse suggested with a soft laugh. “I’m sure the Chairman has some eggs, if you don’t mind breakfast food for dinner.”

“That’s fine.” Winry nodded her approval. “In fact, it’s just perfect.  Fix them however Ed likes them best, and bring a couple of sandwiches for us, too.”

Alphonse ducked out then, obviously pleased he did not have to partake in any more arguing with a feverish Edward.  Winry knew he was just as happy to let her deal with that after the ordeal he’d had through the weekend.  It was clear enough in his notes, even in what he didn’t really say directly, that Alphonse had been having a lot of this very same trouble with his brother when it came time to take his medications.

Turning her attention back to the bed, Winry met Edward’s scowl.  There was a cherry flush to his cheeks from the fever. At least he knew what was going on for the moment, even if the fever was influencing him to make bad decisions and take foolish stands.  Winry wasn’t having any of it.  She put one fist on her hip and pointed her finger at him. “Ed,” she warned. “You don’t want to get worse.  You have to take your medicine.”

“I don’t have to like it.”  He pouted while she poured from the purple bottle.  That one he took without too much more argument, and followed it readily with a good drink from the lemon water.  The aspirin, he crunched after she told him not to, his eyes defiant while she cringed at the sound.

Winry did succeed in getting him to wash them down with more of the water, and the more water he drank and kept down, the better.  She had more trouble with the next pill she wanted him to take.

“What is that?” Edward wanted to know.

“That is your antibiotic, Ed.” He ought to know what it was, but she tried to be patient, knowing that the fever made it hard for him to remember anything.  Some of his medications didn’t help him stay mentally focused, either.

“The mold pill.” Edward pulled a disgusted face.

“Yes, it’s the mold pill,” Winry grumbled, “If you insist on calling it that. But you have to take it, or your shoulder won’t get better.”

Edward pouted.

Winry scowled.

Edward took the pill.  And two green ones. And then a yellow one.  All of them had to be identified, and discussed sometimes at length and ultimately more bullying until he took them, but they were eventually all down chased with plenty of lemon water.

“I have to pee.” Edward frowned, embarrassed.

“It’s okay, Ed.” Winry reassured him. “Remember that means you’re not so desperately dehydrated now, but I want you to use the bottle this time, okay? You’re still feverish.”

Edward clearly didn’t like that idea very much. He canted his eyes to the side and reddened a bit more.

“Ed,” she said, “Listen, you don’t have to be so embarrassed about it.  It’s not like I never helped you with the bottle before either, right?”

Edward shrugged.

“Edward, I just helped you with a bath this morning.”

He shrugged again.

“If you can wait until Alphonse comes back, then he can help you–”

“It’s not that, Win,” he interrupted, sounding so small and forlorn. “It’s just so damned undignified to piss in a bottle.”

“It’s not–” Winry began but Edward waved a hand to negate her words, slapping that same hand over his eyes, his teeth bared miserably.

“It is, Winry,” he moaned.  “You know how much I hate being helpless like this.”

Was he crying? Winry settled a hand on the crown of his head, stroking.  His shoulders shook, and she pulled him into her arms. “It’s okay, Ed,” she crooned. “Shh…”

“S-sorry…” he stammered, fisting the fabric of her skirt as if he thought she would let go of him or push him away.  “I’m sorry… I can’t…” His breath hitched, but Winry had heard the self loathing in his voice.

“Shh…” She hushed him, one hand stroking his back while she rocked him gently.

“God!” Edward croaked, obviously frustrated with himself. “Why am I crying?” That was followed by a gasp and another shudder as he fought back a sob.

“Listen, Ed.” Winry kept petting him. “It’s just because you’re sick, okay? That’s why, and you’re still feverish, and you know how that is for you.

“Sorry,” he said again, sniffling hard.

“It’s okay,” Winry repeated.  “Just take a deep breath and let it out, okay?  You’re okay.”

Edward did as he was told and that seemed to help him. The shaking settled and after a moment, he pushed himself away from her a little, though he hung his head so she couldn’t see his face.

Winry cupped his cheek with her hand and raised his face.  “Ed, it’s all right.” Taking the cloth, she pressed it gently first to one eye and then the other, drying the unwanted tears and soothing the redness around them some at the same time.  Winry eased Edward back into his pillows and gave him a clean tissue so he could blow his nose.

“Sorry,” he told her again as he handed it back to her.

Winry shook her head and threw the tissue away for him.  “It’s okay, Ed. I understand.” She mussed his hair. “C’mon, let’s get your bladder empty, then I can wash your hands and stuff.”

This time, Edward didn’t argue about it. He still blushed, but once she got him sitting on the edge of the bed, he didn’t have too much trouble filling the bottle. The strong yellow liquid told her they still had work to do to get him rehydrated. At least he could produce urine and sweat and tears now.  Edward also wasn’t as disoriented as he had been when she’d arrived, and certainly not as bad as Alphonse grudgingly admitted that he had been at times.  Winry could attribute much of that to the fever and the medications.  It helped that there were three people with him now, who could take turns watching over him until the fever really let go of him. Until then, someone would pretty much have to sit with Edward all the time.

“Okay,” Winry said brightly, putting the bottle down long enough to get Edward resettled against his pillows.  “Just let me get rid of this and wash up, all right?”

Edward nodded silently.  His expression was somewhat sullen, his eyes trailing toward the windows.

Winry frowned, reminding herself that she wanted to put that bed over in that end of the room so Edward could look out.  He might be stuck in that bed for a few days, and it would help his restlessness to be able see outside. She knew that expression.  Edward wanted to be a part of the world, and he couldn’t even see out into it.  Winry left him staring out at the sky to take care of the urine bottle. She left it in the bathroom for the time being and returned for the basin they’d been using for ice and compresses, and the water pitcher.  Winry washed out the basin, washed her own hands and grabbed Edward’s bar of soap out of his kit, and filled the pitcher with fresh water before she headed back down the hall with everything.  “Okay, Ed,” she said brightly as she reentered the room.

Edward, still preoccupied with the window, turned his attention on her. His eyes were clearer now, and when she touched his face, his temperature seemed to be down some, too.

“Looks like that aspirin is already doing you some good, huh?” Winry handed him the bar of soap.

“Yah, because I chewed it,” Edward shot back, letting her help him sit up again.

Winry snorted, but she let him get away with it anyway.  If Edward had the energy to be a smart-ass, that was an improvement too.  She scooted her chair close to the side of the bed and sat in it.  Once he was ready, she filled the basin with a little water and balanced it in her lap.  “Here,” Winry took his hand and soaped it up for him, and then rinsed it in the water she’d poured. 

“You forgot the towel?” Edward asked her, an amused smile on his face as he sat shaking his hand over the bowl.

“I forgot the towel.” Laughing, Winry shook her head, and got to her feet. “You can just drip dry for a minute.  I’ll bring one for you after I empty your soapy water.” By the time she got back with the towel, Alphonse was coming up the stairs with a tray.

“Oh, good!” She clapped her hands.  “That’s perfect, Al.  Just set it on the foot of the bed.” Winry followed him in with the towel and dried Edward’s hand for him, helping him resettle against the pillows.

For Edward, Alphonse had made a small plate of scrambled eggs sided with a little toast, not buttered, but spread lightly with some kind of fruit.  He picked up not just the plate, but a smaller tray off the larger one.  It wasn’t the first time Winry had ever seen a lap tray of course, but this one fit into the other one so perfectly she had been a little surprised when Alphonse had lifted it and little legs unfolded.  “That’s really clever,” she said helping position the legs so Alphonse could put the tray across Edward’s thighs. 

Alphonse beamed.  “Thanks.” 

“Did you make it just now?”

“Yes.” Alphonse nodded.  “I thought it might be awkward for Brother to just have a plate in his lap so…  Mr. Mustang had some firewood downstairs. I just used a couple pieces of it. I’m sure he won’t mind.  I can go chop him some more later.”

“He probably doesn’t need you to do that Al,” Edward observed, picking up one of the corners of toast he’d been allotted and nibbling on it.

Winry smiled.  “He probably has people who do that now.”

“Oh…” Alphonse clearly hadn’t considered that. “I wouldn’t want to take anyone’s job from them, of course.”

Winry picked up a fork from the larger tray and set it on Edward’s. “Do you need any help, Ed?”

“No,” he told her. “I can probably manage. To tell you the truth, though, I’m not so hungry.”

“You should eat, Brother,” Alphonse began.

Winry put her hand on the younger brother’s shoulder and he subsided, his expression questioning.  “Just eat what you’re comfortable with, Ed, okay? Don’t worry if you can’t eat it all.”

Edward nodded as he picked up the fork.  He seemed relieved.

Winry let him be. As long as he was lucid, she wouldn’t coddle him more than he needed.  “You’ll feel better in a few days, and then we can worry about getting your weight back on, Ed. You’ve really lost a lot since last time I saw you.  I can see why Al’s worried.”

Edward snorted softly, but then he stuffed in a mouthful of eggs, so neither she nor Al commented. At least he was willing to eat.  Winry turned to Alphonse. “What did you make for us?”

“Well,” Alphonse grinned. “I had a little fun with the chairman’s electric popup toaster,” he admitted.  So we have toast for our sandwiches, and here is a little bowl of dressing, and mustard, and then some ham, and cheese,” he said pointing to each thing as he mentioned it,  “I guess I could have fried a couple of eggs to go on sandwiches, too if I’d have thought of it, but…”

“It’s fine Al,” Winry told him, knowing that he’d keep rambling if she let him. She was already stacking ham and cheese on her toast while surreptitiously watching Edward eat.  “Ed, honey,” she touched the older brother’s knee.  “Try to eat more eggs before you fill up on toast if you can, okay?”

Edward’s mouth pulled into something between a pout and a scowl.  Despite that, his next bite was a mouthful of eggs. He was pretty slow chewing them. Winry almost felt bad for bothering him.

“If the toast is all you can stand Ed, that’s fine,” she amended gently.  “I just meant if you can eat the eggs that you should eat them first.  You need the protein.” She stroked his leg, letting her hand rest on his thigh.

The wistful little smile Edward gave her in response to that simple touch almost broke Winry’s heart. She wondered if the man had any idea the effect that smile had.  She didn’t think he did. He used it too easily in ways that weren’t necessarily to his advantage.  It took the fire out of his eyes, and turned it into a warmth that had melted her since they’d been children.  Winry gave his knee a little squeeze and let go, answering his smile with one of her own, before turning her attention to her own meal.

They talked some about Edward’s arm, though Edward contributed very little to the conversation, Winry noted he seemed to be concentrating very hard on what he was doing. It wasn’t long before she heard his fork hit the plate harder than usual as he dropped it and sat with his head bowed.

“He fell asleep.” Alphonse reached an arm out to keep his brother from falling sideways.

“Let him sleep, Al,” Winry said quietly.  “Here…” she moved Edward’s tray onto the bigger tray again, lifting both trays out of the way.  “Let’s help him lie down again.  The medicine makes him sleepy, and he needs the rest.”

Edward roused while they were easing him into bed.  Winry took that opportunity to have him drink more water.  After Edward was finished, she sent Alphonse to get more in a clean glass so they would have it handy when Edward wanted it again.  Winry was pleased to note that, to the touch, Edward’s fever had gone down.  Still, she slid the thermometer under his tongue just to be sure he wasn’t slipping down too far.   Though he wasn’t entirely asleep, Winry could tell by the way he toyed unconsciously with the thermometer that Edward wasn’t too alert, either.  She stroked his hair to keep him with her enough that he didn’t bite down on the glass or work it out from where it needed to be.  “There now,” she whispered, when enough time had passed and she could take it out to read it.  _Just under a hundred_. Well that was safe enough. Winry set the thermometer aside and tucked the blankets up around Edward’s shoulders before bending to kiss his cheek.

“Tucking him in?” The deep voice behind her sounded amused.


	14. Chafing Under Restraint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:** Edward Elric is sick with an infection in his shoulder port wakens from a strange nightmare to find Winry and his brother are safe and still looking after him. He’s improving, but still feverish and weak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Edward roused while they were easing him into bed. Winry took that opportunity to have him drink more water. After Edward was finished, she sent Alphonse to get more in a clean glass so they would have it handy when Edward wanted it again. Winry was pleased to note that, to the touch, Edward’s fever had gone down. Still, she slid the thermometer under his tongue just to be sure he wasn’t slipping down too far. Though he wasn’t entirely asleep, Winry could tell by the way he toyed unconsciously with the thermometer that Edward wasn’t too alert, either. She stroked his hair to keep him with her enough that he didn’t bite down on the glass or work it out from where it needed to be. “There now,” she whispered, when enough time had passed and she could take it out to read it. Just under a hundred. Well, that was safe enough. Winry set the thermometer aside and tucked the blankets up around Edward’s shoulders before bending to kiss his cheek._
> 
> _“Tucking him in?” The deep voice behind her sounded amused._

**Date:** 08.Dec.19 - Monday  
 **Time:** 18:30  
 **Location:** Central City - Home of General Roy Mustang

Winry cringed at Mustang sneaking up on her like that again. “Geeze you’re like a damn _cat_!” she hissed, moving to the foot of Edward’s bed so she wouldn’t disturb her friend’s rest.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Miss Rockbell.” Mustang held up his hands and corrected himself.  His tone made her wonder if he was being sarcastic or not.  “ _Doctor_ Rockbell. No, I really am,” he added his deep voice genteel and soothing despite his tousled hair and the sleepy expression.

Winry decided to allow him to convince her he was genuine. Even though she’d have preferred to stay annoyed, it seemed too much like Ed’s behavior. Better to give the man the benefit of the doubt.  She shook her head. “It’s all right Mr. Mustang, but I wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Truly, I don’t mean to.” The former general assured her. “It’s my Xingese upbringing as a child, I’m afraid. We’re taught to walk quietly indoors, and even with shoes on I never quite learned how to stomp around like Fullmetal.”

Winry couldn’t help a snicker at that, her hand going over her mouth too late to hide it.  “I hope we didn’t wake you,” she said belatedly.

“Oh, no,” Mustang shook his head with a sparely covered yawn.  “But I think I’ve slept enough for a while.  I should try to find my office tomorrow even if they’re officially closed.  Much as I adore paperwork,” He rolled his eyes and flapped one hand listlessly in emphasis “there is some I should retrieve and try to go through even if nothing is really moving yet. So I’d better leave a little sleep for tonight.”  He nodded toward Edward. “How is Fullmetal?”

Winry frowned.  “He’s doing better. The medicines you got for me this morning have helped a lot. It’ll take some time for the Dyadrine to get out of his system.  He may have some withdrawal, but I hope it won’t be too bad.  I have some other medications that will help if it is.”

“He seems much more comfortable.”

“Yes,” she nodded, her hand stroking Edward’s foot for a moment.  “The fever isn’t as out of control now, for one thing.  I gave him a bath a few hours ago, and that seems to have helped him feel better.”

“ _You_ gave him a bath?” Mustang’s eyes widened.

“Of course I did,” Winry shot back. She kept her voice low, though she bristled. “Mr. Mustang, I installed Edward’s automail ports when we were eleven years old. What part of him do you suppose I haven’t seen before?”

Mustang raised an infuriating eyebrow at her.  “I wasn’t even thinking about that, I assure you, Doctor Rockbell,” he said. “I simply wondered how you managed to get him _to_ the tub, and was surprised I hadn’t heard.  I’m a fairly light sleeper.  And I suppose,” he added examining his fingernails, “I would have expected more fuss out of Fullmetal about it at any rate.”

“Pff,” Winry rolled her eyes. “I can manage Ed,” she told him smartly.  She wasn’t about to give this man any ammunition to use against Edward.  Oh sure, she supposed most of the bickering that went on between them was just banter now. That was what Alphonse said.  Edward didn’t openly admit it, though sometimes it was a little too obvious.  Still, wasn’t she supposed to take Edward’s side on that anyway?  Winry was a little torn.  It was awfully funny to watch Edward react when Mustang got a particularly good zinger in on him, but still, it wouldn’t be very professional.  “I told you, I’ve been his mechanic since he was eleven.”

“And you always kiss your customers, and tuck them in?” Mustang asked, pursing his lips in amusement.

“Edward,” Winry said, pointing a warning finger at Mustang, somehow keeping her voice low, “is not a normal patient.  He’s also my friend.” She didn’t care if he was probably right.  Edward had told her she could kiss him, that it comforted him.  “Edward may take this sort of teasing from you, Mr. Mustang, because he likes the verbal sparring, but he’s in no condition for it right now. Though, I assure you that I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, as you know. If you wake him up with it, he’ll waste energy defending me.  If that happens, there’s gonna be hell to pay and you’re the one who’ll be paying it.”

“Yes ma’am!” The former general held up his hands, laughing softly. “No teasing until Fullmetal is better.”

“And I’m the one who says when he’s better enough.” Winry’s finger jabbed the air.

“Understood,” Mustang agreed with a genuine smile. “How is he really?” He leaned against the door frame. “Have you been able to look at his shoulder?”

Winry glanced back over her shoulder at Edward as he slept. “Not really.  I need better light. There’s some corrosion in the socket, inside the port connections, and that shouldn’t be happening.  I really can’t look at it much more until he’s stronger and the inflammation is a lot better.  Right now, it’s just too painful for him to have me to be poking around in there.” She pouted for a moment, folding her arms over her midsection.  “He is improving though.  He’s been able to eat a little today, and doing better with keeping fluids down.  The saline drip I gave him this morning was probably the biggest help to him in the short term. If he can keep drinking, he may not need the other one.”

Their conversation was interrupted at that point by a dozen small feet charging up the stairs, then the Chairman was surrounded by little bouncing dogs, his face transformed from concern into a happy smile as he tried to pet all three of them at once.  Ultimately, he had to crouch down and let them all express their happiness by licking his face, before he could pet their wagging bodies and croon over them all equally. “Who’s the puppies?” or “How’s my doggies?” and other similar nonsense.

The dogs were followed shortly by Alphonse who also stopped to pet them, and in a moment all three were moving between the threewakefulhumans.  Ralph, after satisfying himself that these three were as they should be, hopped up on the bed, nosing under Edward’s hand and settled down there next to him.  Only his tail continued to move.

“He’s a good dog,” Mustang observed as Alphonse set the glass of ice water on the bedside table.

Alphonse nodded, fishing a lemon slice out of the little fingerbowl full of water they’d put there to keep them fresh, squeezing it into the water.  “I’m concerned about the ice supply, Chairman,” he said.  “You put the ice card out several days ago, I know, but the ice man still hasn’t come, and the block is getting really small now.  I’ve tried to preserve it as much as I can, but even just chipping off bits for Edward to suck on has–”

“Al…” Winry set her hands on her hips. “What the hell is wrong with your brain?”

“Huh?” Alphonse set the lemon aside and stared at her with wide gold eyes only a shade or two darker than Edward’s.

“This morning, I could excuse it because you were exhausted, but now?” Winry shook her head.  “It’s freezing cold outside. You even told me you’d brought in snow to cool the compresses with.  Why in the world didn’t you break off a couple of those big icicles from the eaves and put them in the ice box if you were worried about it?”

“Oh.” Alphonse’s face fell, and Winry knew he felt foolish now.

“Even better, Al,” she went on, unrelenting, “Why didn’t you just use your alchemy to make more ice?  It’s not like we have any shortage of water, you know?”  She pointed towards the window. “Just look at all that snow out there!”

There was a small snicker from the bed, and all three turned to see Edward had his eyes open again. He was petting his dog. “She’s right you know?” Edward smirked.

“Maybe you could have suggested it, Edward!” Winry pointed out.

“Hey, give a guy a break, Win!” Edward protested. “I’m sick as hell, remember? I can’t even think straight half the time. He never bothered to mention it to me, or maybe I would’ve thought of it. Who knows!  He didn’t, so it’s not my fault. You can’t blame me for this one.”

Alphonse chuckled softly. “I didn’t,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to worry him, so I just dealt with it as well as I could think to.  I guess I’m still not entirely used to the idea of having alchemy to use for simple everyday needs again after a year without it. Silly, isn’t it?”

There was another little scoff out of Edward, but he didn’t say anything else.

“I think I’ll go make some ice now,” Alphonse told them, blushing.

“Wait,” Winry ordered.  “I want you guys to do me a favor first.”

“You do?” Alphonse squeaked.

“Don’t act like you’re scared before I even ask you to do anything, Al!” Winry warned. “I’ll think of something for you to be scared of.”

Edward snickered sleepily.

“You shut up, Edward!” Winry warned.

“What do you need us to do, Doctor Rockbell?” Mustang asked.

“I don’t like where Ed’s bed is.” Winry nodded at the placement.  “If he could walk it would be one thing I guess, but even then, he’s going to need a lot of rest the next few days, and that means a lot of time spent in that bed.”

“Aw, I’ll be back up and around in no time, Win,” Edward started, pushing himself back up against the headboard as if he thought that proved something.  “I don’t–”

“You be quiet!” Winry pointed at him, and Edward closed his mouth.

“Where would you like it then?” Mustang said coolly.  Clearly he was just as unimpressed by Edward’s protests.

“I think it would be nice if he could actually see out the windows.”

The older man scrubbed his chin for a moment.

Winry thought she could almost hear him rearranging the furniture in his mind.  “Every time I leave him alone for a minute he has been staring out those windows from over here.”

“No I haven’t!” Edward denied.

“Be quiet Ed,” Winry told him. “You know you have, and you can’t even see anything.”

“That must be very frustrating,” Mustang murmured, pacing down the room towards the windows.  Winry could almost hear in her mind the additional quip that Mustang did not make; probably something about Edward’s size. Never mind that Edward was nearly as tall as his former superior now.

Edward snorted eloquently.  It might have been quite expressive, except that he set off a tickle that made him cough harshly.  He drew his knee up, gasping and clutching at his chest, as his brother hurried to help him.

_Feedback!_   “Don’t cough, Ed,” Winry ordered, only two steps behind Alphonse.  She sat him up, perhaps a little more roughly than he might have liked. She wrapped her arm behind him, her other hand shoving his hand out of the way to expertly find the right pressure points to stop this.  Deep shoulder attachments were one of the very worst places to get feedback.  A recurrence like this, so long after the initial surgery, usually meant that there was serious inflammation to the inner nerve attachments and possibly damage to the nerves.  It wasn’t something Winry wanted to deal with ever; doubly so with Edward, whose attachment was already in serious trouble. That he was getting feedback on this level was not a good sign. That said; Winry was a little encouraged that he hadn’t had any since early this morning, and this was not as bad as it was then.

Edward, to his credit, didn’t cough any more. He struggled with it, clearing his throat harshly twice, growling in pain, as his hand unconsciously tried to get Winry’s fingers out of the holes they were digging in his chest. Even if it wasn’t as bad as it had been, the spasm worried her, and she was relieved when felt it easing.  Though Edward still pulled at her fingers, she released the pressure slowly rather than all at once.  Once it was over, Edward leaned against her, exhausted by the ordeal.

“He’s all right now?” Mr. Mustang asked from where he hovered nearby.

Winry nodded. “Yes. For now. I don’t like that he’s having feedback issues,” she admitted aloud what she’d just been thinking. “It does seem to be improving though.  This is only the second episode I’ve seen.”

“It wasn’t as bad as it’s been, Winry,” Alphonse assured her.

“Yah,” Edward told her hoarsely, obviously trying to sound like his usual brash self, even though he lay limply against her. “That was nothing…” He cleared his throat carefully.

“Do you have blood in your mouth Ed?” Winry asked seriously, her thumb wiping over his lips gently. She couldn’t always trust him to tell the truth about things like this.

He shook his head and whispered back, “I can taste a little metal, but I didn’t get a mouthful this time.” He cleared his throat again. “That’s good, right?”

Alphonse handed Winry the glass of lemon water. Edward drank from it, his hand clenched in the fabric of her dress again as she held him and the glass.  “It’s an improvement.  I think you definitely need to keep taking your anti-inflammatory medicine though, Ed. I know you don’t like it and I know it probably upsets your stomach, but you have to take it, okay?”

Edward nodded, his hand slowly unwinding from the fabric of her skirt. He reached for Al’s hand. “You guys still gonna move me where I can see out?”

Winry giggled softly at the admission of what she’d known all along.

“Sure, Brother. You want to just move with the bed?”

“No,” Winry cut Edward off before he could answer. “You get him out and set him in the chair, Al,” she ordered. “I don’t want him bounced around like that.”

Mustang moved the second chair back out of the way. “I think it would be best right here.  It seems to afford the best view, but it will allow you to move around him as needed while he’s mending.”

Alphonse bodily picked his brother up and bundled him into the chair as directed. Winry watched over him carefully while the two able bodied men wrestled the bed to its new location.  The dogs ran in and out several times, excited by the activity.  Ralph barked at Alphonse as Edward was quickly resettled into bed, then immediately parked himself next to his man so that Edward could pet him and tell him what a good dog he was for making sure Alphonse did it right.  Roxy and Moxy bounced up onto the foot of the bed, but didn’t bother Edward.  Mustang praised them for being good dogs too.  Both other chairs were placed near the bed, and tables were resituated.

Now that the inner part of the room was empty, Winry’s ‘workbench’ was moved into the space where the bed had been before.  Once she reorganized the space to take best advantage of the gas light, Winry thought she could set herself up with a decent makeshift workshop right here if she could manage another table. No need to be holed up in a corner of Mr. Mustang’s alchemy lab. A couple of good electric lights would be even better.  That was something to work on later.

Edward, thoroughly worn out by the activity, had fallen asleep almost instantly, which was probably for the best, but Winry was sure that when he was awake again he’d be much happier with his new location.

“Chairman Mustang,” Alphonse was saying.  “Winry and Ed and I have already had dinner. I made some sandwiches for us. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No of course not, Alphonse,” Mustang said, his voice all congeniality.  “You’re growing boys.” Then he amended with a little sniff.  “Well, _you_ are at the very least.”

Winry could have sworn she heard Edward growl something in his sleep, but when she looked the older brother still seemed quite soundly asleep, his face towards them, his left hand curled under his cheek.  How Edward could possibly look so innocent baffled Winry.

Alphonse laughed softly, that same laugh.  Winry recognized it.  Alphonse had learned to use it inside the armor to show he was smiling even if no one could see it.  Once he had his body back, even when he didn’t have all his memories, that small laugh had never really gone away. It was just a bit warmer now.  “I left a couple in the ice box for you, Chairman. I thought maybe by the time you woke up, you might not want to cook for yourself.”

Mustang smiled. “That’s very kind of you, Alphonse.  If you think you’ve got everything settled for the moment, I think I will go and partake of them now. I’m sure they’re quite good if you made them Alphonse.”

Winry snickered softly as he left them.  Maybe Mustang really didn’t know that between the two boys, Edward was by far the better cook.  Somehow the fact that he didn’t know everything about them that she did pleased Winry on some level.

Winry stretched her arms over her head tiredly. She’d spent an inordinate amount of time cramped in the cold car trying to get to Central from where they’d been stranded.  She’d slept in the car while Mustang had driven the last leg of the trip, and a little since she’d arrived this morning, but she still felt the long ride by train and car in her muscles and bones. The felt like they were creaking as she stretched.

“Why don’t you take another nap, Winry?” Alphonse suggested seeing the way she tried to ease her back and shoulders.

“No…” not that she didn’t consider that option, but sleep wasn’t really what she needed right now. “I’m not really sleepy.  If you don’t mind though, I think I’d like a hot bath.

Alphonse looked a little embarrassed, but he waved a hand at her, “Of course, Winry. Ed’s fine now.”

“He’s _not_ fine,” Winry said firmly, pointing a finger at the younger brother. “He’ll be okay if you keep a close watch on him.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she heard him agree as she whirled out of the room.  Winry was relatively certain Alphonse had rolled his eyes as he said it.  She was less certain of hearing a hoarse snicker from Edward, but she wouldn’t be surprised. Edward seemed inclined to sleep for only a few minutes at a time, and it was probably why he was having so much trouble keeping track of time. Still, she let it slide. Better snickers and rolled eyes behind her back than either boy in the condition she’d found them in this morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm proud to finally present this here on Archive of Our Own. Reviews are definitely welcome. Constructive critique is fine too. Thanks for reading.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * ["Red is a Badass Color"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758715) by [Ookami82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ookami82/pseuds/Ookami82)




End file.
